Maybe You're Gonna Be The One That Saves Me
by Sunrise-Rose1023
Summary: AU. Melinda Moore has had a tough life. So has Dean Winchester. After what they expected to be a one night stand, they discover that maybe they won't have to be alone anymore. Title taken from an Oasis song, "Wonderwall".
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! As always, thank you so much for checking out my story. PRETTY PLEASE drop me a review and let me know what you think!**

**This is a new type of story for me. It's still a crossover between Supernatural and Charmed, but this one is AU. There is no magic, no supernatural beings, no hunters, no witches. Melinda and Dean have had rough lives, and the explanations as to why will come in later chapters. As a bit of backstory, just to set up timeline, this takes place around SPN's Pilot episode, Season 1. Sam's at Stanford, living with Jess and her sister, Melinda. Dean shows up to surprise his brother with a visit. Enjoy. ;)**

****Nothing from Charmed or Supernatural belongs to me.****

* * *

_-ONE-_

Melinda threw back her third tequila shot, letting out a shout as she did. Her sister let out a harsh breath beside her, shaking her head as she sat the shot glass down, as Melinda laughed.

"Come on, Jess. Let's do another!"  
"Oh no. No way. You need to slow down, Mel."

Melinda rolled her eyes and pushed her blonde hair up into a ponytail. Her bangs fell onto her forehead and she shook them back. Slowing down was not what Melinda Moore needed tonight. She glanced over and smiled when she saw the extremely tall man making his way to their table.

"Sammy! Look here, Jess. It's Sam."  
"I see. Hey, baby."

Jess lifted her face as Sam bent down to kiss her. Melinda made gagging noises behind them, making both of them smile. Sam looked over to Melinda as Jess nestled against his side.

"Well, someone seems to be having a good time."  
"Know what would make me have a better time? Do shots with me, Sammy. This girl's too boring."

Jess let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. Sam smiled, but shook his head.

"Sorry, Mel. I need to take it easy tonight."

Melinda groaned as she propped her arms up on the table, letting her head fall onto them. Jess bit the inside of her cheek to try to keep from smiling, but it didn't work. Melinda popped back up, pouting. Jess reached over and tapped Melinda's nose.

"Cheer up, buttercup."  
"I don't want to cheer up. I don't want to take it easy. We are in college, for Christ's sake, and that means we are supposed to act stupid while we do stupid things. Why won't anyone do stupid things with me?"

Sam and Jess shared a laugh, and he bent to whisper in her ear. Jess smiled, nodding to him, then turning to her sister. Melinda held up a hand.

"Don't say it. Let me guess. Find my own ride home?"  
"Do you mind?"

Melinda blew out her breath.

"Fine. Whatever."  
"Don't be mad, Mel."

Melinda moved in her chair, facing Jess with her back to Sam.

"Tell the moose I hate him."  
"I'm standing right here, Mel."  
"Tell Moose I'm not speaking to him."

Jess laughed as she hopped off her barstool. She gave Melinda a kiss on the cheek, then walked out of the bar, Sam's arm around her waist. Melinda sighed, leaving her own barstool to belly up to the bar.

"Hey, can I get another tequila shot and a beer? Bottle of whatever."

An hour later, Melinda was working on her third game of pool. She'd hustled two guys already, and was about to make this poor sucker her third. Everyone in town knew better than to play her, but some unsuspecting tourists, or a drunk-off-his-ass frat boy with something to prove would challenge her, and she'd have to wipe the floor with them. She lined up her last shot, a tricky 8-ball off the wall. Well, it should have been tricky. She had a little smirk on her face as she bent over the table, lining up her shot, when she glanced up.

Across the table, at the bar, smiling at her was a gorgeous hunk of a man. His eyes were locked on hers and he raised his beer to her. She gave him a wink, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, turning her attention back to the table. She took in a breath and took the shot, feeling as soon as the stick made contact with the ball that it was going in. And it did. Male groans filled the pool area, and Melinda held out a hand as the latest in a long line of losers slapped the money into her hand. She deliberately set the money in her bra, blowing him a kiss before leaning on her pool stick.

"That it? Any other takers?"

People laughed and shook their heads all over the room, until a deep, rumbling voice sounded.

"I'll take some."

Melinda turned around, her ponytail flying over her shoulder. Mr. Handsome from the bar swaggered—yes, he swaggered—over to her. He handed her a beer, laying the required fee on the edge of the table. Melinda took a long swig of the beer, then turned to face him.

"You sure about this, Cowboy?"

He grinned.

"Yeah. Question is, are you?"

Whistles and shouts came from all around them. Melinda smiled, nodding her head.

"Let's put your money where your mouth is, shall we? You can break."

An hour later, they were tied up, one ball apiece and the 8-ball on the table. This guy had surprised Melinda. He knew his pool, and had almost run the table once, before she got the upper hand by flashing him just a little cleavage. She wasn't afraid to play dirty, and when her turn had rolled around, she learned he wasn't either, when he leaned over, whispering in her ear, his hot breath on her skin making her knees wobble. He knocked his last ball in, glancing up to her and she smiled at him. They both knew he didn't have a chance of making this last shot. He set his cue on the ground, draping his hands over it, setting his chin on his hands and looking at her.

"What do you say we up the ante a little bit?"  
"Last I checked, we weren't playing poker."

He nodded, tucking his tongue in his cheek as the little crowd that had gathered let out laughs and shouts.

"Okay, okay. Well, why don't we make this a little more interesting?"

Melinda laid a hand on her slender hip.

"I'm listening."

He scratched his chin.

"Double or nothing?"

Melinda rolled her eyes.

"I don't get out of bed for double or nothing."

The crowd laughed again, and this time, he joined them. Melinda felt a little cocky then, something she blames on the alcohol she'd had, and she smiled.

"Plus, we both know you'll never sink this shot, so it doesn't really matter what you bet."

He nodded, taking a few steps until he was right in front of her. She looked into his eyes, and _damn._ What eyes they were. They were a deep, emerald green, and she could already see herself getting lost in them. He took that moment to speak softly, his voice rolling over her like velvet.

"I sink this, you come home with me."

Melinda was buzzed, and she'd admit to that. She was not drunk. Drunk constituted not being in control of your emotions and therefore yourself, and she had not hit that point. She was in control, fully cognizant of her actions, completely capable of making decisions on her own. She looked Green Eyes up and down, before locking back on his mesmerizing eyes.

"Deal."

The room went silent. The music even stopped playing, because no one was on the dance floor. Everyone was gathered around the pool table, seeing if this big talking stranger could live up to his word against the wild child pool hustler. He backed away from her, taking his spot at the edge of the table. Melinda stepped back, letting out a breath. He lined up his cue, looking up at her, then smiled. He prepped once, twice, then let go on the third. A collective intake of breath sounded around the room as the cue ball rolled slowly down the table. Melinda's eyes widened as the ball tapped the black 8-ball, causing it to roll sideways. She smirked, watching the ball roll to the side of the table, away from the holes, until it seemed to change direction, taking its time before sliding into the corner pocket.

Not a sound was heard in the room. He looked from the table up to Melinda, who was still staring at the 8-ball, nestled safely in the corner pocket. She finally glanced up and met his eyes, seeing the smile on his face. She nodded, laying her stick down.

"You'll have to teach me that one day."

He nodded, making his way to her. The bartender walked over with two tequila shots, handing one to each of them, a kind of ceremonious ending to the game. Melinda held her glass up, nearly touching his. He smiled at her, those green eyes burning into her blue ones.

"You can still back out, you know."

Melinda laughed.

"I don't go back on my bets. You won, so let's get the hell out of here."

He smiled, clinking his glass to hers before they threw back their shots. He slid his beat-up leather jacket over his shoulders, then wrapped an arm around her waist. They walked out of the bar, and he led her to an old, sleek black Chevy.

"This is your car?"

He smiled.

"My baby."  
"She's gorgeous."

He opened her door and she slid in, appreciating the scenery. He slid into the driver's seat, starting the car, and Melinda smiled when she heard the engine roar to life.

"Very nice."  
"Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet."

She let out a laugh as he drove away from the bar. A few miles down the road, he turned to her with a smile.

"So I've got a little confession to make."

Melinda smiled.

"You kidnap girls like me and keep us chained in your basement?"  
"Only on Tuesdays. It's Saturday, so you're in luck."

She let out a laugh as he came to a stop sign. He turned to her, laying his arm across the backseat.

"I'm not from around here."  
"You don't say."

He smiled as his head dropped, then lifted it to look at her again.

"Therefore, I don't really have a place to take you, unless you want to find a cheap motel room."

Melinda smiled, moving just a bit closer to him.

"So romantic. I'd tell you to come to my place, but my sister and her boyfriend are there, and it would just … No."

He reached over, running his fingers over the end of her ponytail, his fingers gently brushing against her neck. Her eyes drifted shut, and he watched her, shifting in his seat.

"You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'll take you home."

Melinda opened her eyes. She took a good look at this guy, kind of in awe. Could it be this guy was an actual gentleman? By the softness of his eyes, the smile on his face, she could tell that he was being serious. He wasn't going to make her do anything she didn't want to do, which was a nice breath of fresh air after dealing with the assholes around campus. Melinda smiled, realizing she didn't even know his name.

"I don't want to go home. I don't even know your name, but I want to go with you."

He smiled, leaning over in the seat and taking her mouth with his. Melinda let her eyes drift close. My _God_, the man knew how to kiss. His tongue slid through her lips and she couldn't help the moan that escaped. She felt him smile against her mouth before he pulled back. He turned back to the road, finally driving through the stop sign as Melinda glanced behind her.

"Or we could just make do with this backseat."

He let out a laugh, then shook his head.

"Oh no. I'm taking you to a bed."

Melinda felt a shiver run down her spine as she moved over, closer to him, letting her hand settle on his thigh. She smiled at his sharp intake of breath, and she leaned up to press a kiss to his neck. He let out a quiet moan and Melinda sat back, keeping her head on his shoulder.

"So… Do I get to know your name? Or is this one of those weirdo anonymous things?"

He laughed, reaching up to grab a handful of her hair before letting it go.

"Dean. I'm Dean."

She nodded.

"Melinda. But everyone calls me Mel."

He nodded, repeating her name as he pulled into the parking lot of—well, he wasn't kidding. A motel. One of those pay-by-the-hour institutions. Melinda sat up, and Dean tried to ignore the empty feeling he felt when she moved away from him. He climbed out of the car, walking around and opening her door, offering a hand to help her out. Melinda took it, smiling and shaking her head.

"Such a gentleman. You could teach the yahoos around here a thing or two."

Dean smiled, keeping hold of her hand, leading her to Room 19. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, flipping on a light and glancing around before he turned to her with a smile. She walked inside, hearing him shut and lock the door behind her. He cleared his throat.

"So, is this going to be one of those we'll get to know each other first things, or—"

His sentence was cut off when Melinda pushed him up against the wall. She smiled, moving in close to him.

"Why don't we just get down to business?"

He smiled.

"We can do that."

She went on her tiptoes, pressing her mouth to his. She moved closer to him as she kissed him, tangling her fingers in his short hair. He reached both hands to her head, holding for just a moment before he gently pulled the band from her ponytail. Her honey-colored hair fell loose to her shoulders, and he plunged his hands into it after slipping the band on his wrist. Melinda let out a yelp when he switched their positions, pressing her against the wall as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders. He reached up, taking hold of her wrists and pinning them to the wall. Melinda let out a breathy laugh, and he smiled at her as he moved to kiss her neck, pressing his hips into hers. She bit her lip and moaned, trying and failing to move her hands, but rocking her hips with his, both of them groaning at the friction. She felt him smile against her skin before he leaned back to look at her. He lowered his hands, and by some unspoken words, she kept her wrists against the wall. He undid the buttons on her shirt, and she moved to slide it off her arms, leaving her in a bright pink tank top. Dean smiled, reaching behind him to grab a handful of his sweater and pull it over his head. Melinda groaned when she saw his white t-shirt.

"What—"

He couldn't say anything when she launched herself from the wall at him. He caught her easily as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in close, fusing her mouth to his. Dean smiled and bent just a bit, grabbing hold of her legs and hiking her up. She wrapped her legs around him and he carried her to the bed, set her down beside it as he unbuttoned her jeans. She pulled back from him, kicking her shoes off and shimmying out of her pants. Dean did his best not to swallow his tongue as she reached down, crossing her arms as she took hold of the hem of the tank, pulling it over her head, leaving only a pink bra and matching panties on. She moved in closer to him, pulling his head down for a kiss before she moved back, going to sit on the bed.

"Your turn."

Dean smiled, toeing off his boots before reaching back and pulling his t-shirt over his head. He heard, and appreciated, Melinda's gasp, and he smiled as he undid his belt, letting his jeans fall to the floor. He stepped over to the bed and shuddered when she laid a soft, cool hand on his hardened abs.

"Very nice."  
"You're not so bad yourself."

His voice was throaty and rough, and Melinda just smiled as she moved back, leaning against the pillows. Dean followed her, catching her mouth as he settled on top of her. She smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed down her neck, making her breath catch, before he held her close to him, flipping them over.

Melinda smiled as she sat up, straddling his ripped stomach, flipping her hair back. Dean watched, kind of mesmerized by her. She kept the smile on her face, a smile that made her look as though she had a secret, one just for him. Dean swallowed as she reached behind her, undoing her bra and letting it fall off her arms. He sat up, laying his hands on her breasts, kissing her neck and she groaned. His hands were rough and calloused, and she moaned as he shaped her in his hands. He flipped them again, kissing her mouth before moving down, making her groan his name as he stopped at her chest. She almost missed him hooking his thumbs in her panties, dragging them down her legs, before he fixed his mouth on her. She gripped him tight, tugging on his hair as he smiled, until her arms fell and she gripped the sheets. Somehow the blanket had been pulled back from the bed, and she was now writhing on the cool, cream-colored sheets.

"Holy … _shit_. Don't—don't stop."

Dean didn't, and Melinda came apart just a few seconds later. He had a smile on his face as he moved back up her body, and she took hold of his face, kissing him long and hard. When they had to pull back for air, she kept her hands on his cheeks.

"Damn. You … Just … Damn."

Dean smiled, moving in to kiss her again. After a second, she pushed him up, into a sitting position, and she moved to her knees. She pushed his shoulders until he laid back, letting her hover over him before she leaned down to kiss him, her hair falling over them, hiding them behind a honey-colored curtain. She pulled back, leaving him breathing hard, and smiled as she moved down his body, kissing his chest, his toned abdomen, rolling her nails down his sides. He sucked in a breath when she did that, and a little giggle escaped her lips. She slid his boxers down before taking him in her mouth. And Jesus, what a mouth she had.

"Jesus Christ, Mel."

Dean was breathing hard, gripping the sheets, groaning before he shook his head, letting out a laugh.

"God _damn_, Mel. You—you've got to stop. I can't. I can't."

He picked her head up, and she smiled at him. He pulled her back to him, meeting her lips as he laid her down on the pillows. She looked up at him, and he noticed, not for the first time, how incredibly blue her eyes were. She let a hand come up, gently running it over his stubbled cheek.

"Do you have…?"

He nodded, reaching over on the nightstand.

"Thank God."

She let out a sigh of relief and he smiled as he leaned down, pressing their lips together again. He sat up, rolling the condom on, and Melinda pushed her hands in her hair, letting out a breath. Dean came back over her, looking her in the eye.

"You okay?"

Melinda smiled.

"I'm fine."  
"You sure?"

She nodded, and Dean relaxed back just a bit. Melinda sighed.

"Dean, how many times do I have to say it?"  
"Well, you did have a lot to drink."  
"Enough to feel good. Not enough to not realize what I'm doing. I am fully aware of my actions, and I want this, okay? I want you."

Dean smiled and nodded.

"I just want to—"  
"Christ Almighty, I did not have you pegged for a talker, but damn if you're not—"

Dean leaned down, silencing Melinda with a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his back, and he slid into her. They both gasped sharply, Melinda digging her nails into his shoulders. Dean rolled his hips, reaching over to grip Melinda's wrist, sliding his hand down to lace his fingers with hers.

"Oh my god."

Her whisper was broken and barely audible. Dean groaned with every thrust, Melinda raising her hips to meet him each time. He shook his head, breathing hard, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

"I … goddamn it, I'm not going to last very … very long."

Melinda nodded, gripping his hand tighter, wrapping her other arm around his neck.

"Ne—neither am I. Oh _god_."

Melinda tightened her grip on him, letting out breathy gasps and groans as she came, hard. Dean was right there with her, groaning, saying her name as he came with her, just as hard.


	2. Chapter 2

****Nothing from Charmed or Supernatural belongs to me.****

_-TWO-_

Melinda let out a quiet curse as she rammed her knee into the nightstand. She bit her lip, glancing over at the bed, at the gorgeous hunk of man sleeping soundly. She let out a sigh, rubbing her leg again and standing up. Her body had the strangest feeling, as though all of her joints had become unhinged, and it felt glorious. Not to mention the fact that the sex had been so good she'd freakin' passed out afterwards. Of course, so had … Wait. What was his name?

Dean. Melinda smiled. What a man. She shook her head, picking up her underwear and slipping them back on. She found her jeans and slid them on, glancing around for her shirt. She found her tank and slid it back on, eyeing her shoes over in the corner.

"Looking for this?"

Melinda turned back to see Dean, sitting up in the bed with her shirt in his hand. She smiled.

"Yes, actually. Sorry. I didn't want to wake you."  
"It's fine."

She looked away, feeling her cheeks grow warm as he climbed out of the bed, slipping his jeans on. He caught her eye and he smiled, stretching and yawning. Melinda closed her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. Dean walked over to her, in all his shirtless glory, and helped her put her shirt back on, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. She kissed him back, letting her hands come up to grip his biceps. He smiled as he pulled back, running a hand through her messy hair.

"So, Melinda…"  
"We don't have to do the thing."

Dean raised an eyebrow, and Melinda smiled.

"You know, where we exchange details, tell our life stories."  
"Oh, no. Let's not do the … the thing."

They shared a smile, and Dean ran a hand through his hair.

"Can I take you home?"

Melinda smiled, going up on her tiptoes and kissing him on the lips.

"Nah. It's okay. I can find my own way. I always do."  
"Mel, I—"  
"It's okay, Dean. Really. I've been taking care of myself since long before you came around. I'll be fine."

She slid her shoes on her feet, walking to the door with him behind her. She opened the door and he took hold of it, watching as she turned around to face him again. She smiled, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"I had a great time, Dean."  
"So did I."

Her cheeks grew warm again, and he smiled. He held a hand on her cheek as he bent down, kissing her lips, before laying one last kiss on her cheek. Melinda smiled, moving a hand to his cheek, running her thumb over his lips.

"See you around, Dean."  
"See you around."

Melinda wasn't entirely sure why she'd said that, because they both knew that most likely, they'd never see each other again. She shook her head as she walked away, and seemingly out of nowhere, a cab appeared. She climbed in, lifting a hand to Dean, who laughed as he waved, watching the cab until he couldn't see it anymore. He shut the door behind him, running his hands through his hair before fingering the ponytail holder he still had around his wrist.

Dean was a loner, there was no doubt about that. He'd been on the road his whole life, literally, ever since his mother died. For 18 years of his life, it was just him, his dad, and his brother. Then his brother hit 19 and took off. Then his dad took off. For the past 3 years, Dean had been completely on his own, and he'd learned to like it. He went where he wanted, did what he wanted. He slept when he got tired. Ate when he was hungry. Found a girl in the bar when he needed to feel not quite so lonely. But for some reason, the past couple of months… Dean had felt more alone than ever before.

Which is how he found himself in Palo Alto, California, in a bar down the street from Stanford University, where his brother was about to start law school. Dean had gone with his normal routine, arriving in town, scoping out his brother's apartment, hitting up a local establishment. It was a stroke of pure luck that he'd happened to glance over at a pool table, seeing the gorgeous blonde hunkered over it, hustling some suckers. Then the blonde had looked up, and he was captivated by her crystal blue eyes. He'd raised his beer at her, mentally kicking himself in the ass for such an idiotic move, until she winked at him. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Dean climbed in the shower, prepared to get a jump-start on his day. But for some reason, something Melinda had said to him kept ringing in his brain.

"_It's okay, Dean. Really. I've been taking care of myself since long before you came around. I'll be fine."_

She was just a girl in a bar. Just another girl he took to his bed.

Except for the fact that she wasn't.

From the moment he'd laid his lips to hers, Dean felt that this girl was different. She gave as good as she got, whether it was at pool, or in … other more enjoyable activities, Dean thought with a smile. The sex was mind-blowingly amazing. Never had Dean ever had sex so good he passed out afterwards. He leaned down, shutting the water off, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out of the shower. He walked over, holding onto the sink and looking into the mirror.

Melinda. He didn't even know her last name. By this time with any other girl, he'd have forgotten their names. He might have even forgotten them by now. Just a quick lay to take the edge off? Never been a problem for Dean. He'd meet them, charm them, love them, and leave them. But now… He couldn't get Melinda's face out of his head. That beautiful smile, those eyes. The way she looked as she leaned over him, her hair falling around them both. Dean groaned, shaking his head.

She was just another girl in another bar.

Except for the fact that she wasn't.

"_It's okay, Dean. Really. I've been taking care of myself since long before you came around. I'll be fine."_

Why was that statement bothering him so much? Maybe she'd had a tough life. God knows he knew what that was like. But why did he feel like he wanted to make sure the rest of her life wasn't tough? He wanted to go and find her, take her in his arms and never let her go.

Jesus Christ, if this wasn't a chick-flick moment, he didn't know what was.

Dean got dressed, trying to get Melinda out of his mind as he brushed his teeth and packed his bag. It didn't take long, since he had never really unpacked. He smiled as he looked under the bed, finding a bright pink bra. The smile stayed on Dean's face as he slipped the bra into his bag. He loaded his things in his Impala, still debating with himself on whether or not to drop in on his brother. What a surprise that would be. Dean smiled, already anticipating the look on his little brother's face when he showed up. Yeah, it would totally be worth it. Dean checked his phone, and seeing no missed calls from his dad or Uncle Bobby, he climbed in the car, heading back to the apartment he'd scoped out the night before.

* * *

Melinda gently slid her key in the lock, unlocking the door as quietly as she could. She stepped inside, her shoes in her hand, and silently slid the door shut. She tiptoed through the living room, heading for the hallway off of the kitchen.

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Melinda squealed as she dropped her shoes.

"God _damn it_, Jessica! Don't do that!"

Melinda held her hand over her heart, breathing hard. Jess walked out of the shadows, wrapped up in her fluffy blue bathrobe. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was wearing something akin to one of Sam's bitchfaces. Melinda let out a sigh when her heart rate was back under control.

"Have you been waiting up for me?"  
"What do you think? My little sister doesn't come home until … 6:47 in the morning?"

Melinda looked over to the clock, her mouth falling open. She'd stayed with Dean all night? She looked back to Jess, who had an expectant look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I … I didn't realize how late it was. Or early it is."

Jess let out a sigh.

"Mel, where have you been? You've never stayed out this late."

Melinda's eyes widened, and she felt her cheeks heat. Jess moved her hands to her hips.

"Melinda…"

Melinda sighed.

"I met a guy."

Jess' mouth fell open.

"You what? Did you…?"

Jess let her sentence trail off, and Melinda sighed as she nodded.

"Melinda! My God, what the hell were you thinking?"  
"Okay, can you not yell right now? You're going to wake Sam."  
"I'm not real worried about Sam right now. I know where he is."

Melinda sighed, bending to pick up her shoes. Jess stepped in front of her, blocking the hall. Melinda sighed.

"Jess, I—"  
"Oh, no. We are not done. You are going to sit right here and talk to me."  
"Jessica, I'm 22. And you are not my mother. I don't have to tell you anything."

Melinda dropped her shoes into a chair and went to stand behind it. Jess narrowed her eyes, pushing a blonde curl back from her face.

"Melinda, you don't just go home with guys you meet in bars."  
"Didn't you meet Sam in a bar?"

Jess faltered, for just a second.

"That's different. It was a mixer, not a bar. And I didn't go home with Sam the second I met him. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? What might still happen to you?"  
"I don't think he's a crazy stalker, but I could be mistaken."  
"Very funny, Melinda. I'm being serious!"

Melinda sighed, pushing her hair up in her hands. Didn't she have a ponytail last night? She realized Jess was still rambling, but she had tuned her out. She should probably listen to her.

"Melinda, are you even listening to me?"

Melinda smiled, shaking her head.

"Sorry."

Jess blew out her breath.

"Melinda, you know what kind of people are out there."

Melinda looked over to Jess, a humorless smile on her face.

"Yeah, Jess. I do. Kind of hard for me to forget, you know?"

Jess sighed.

"Mel, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to … I'm sorry."  
"No, you did mean to. But I can't spend my whole life hiding, Jessica. I deserve to go out and have a little fun every now and then, without worrying if this is the guy that's finally going to do me in."  
"Mel…"  
"Seriously, Jess. I'm a big girl. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, remember?"

Jess looked at the ground, letting out a long sigh. She stepped over, closer to Melinda.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you, Mel. If it did… I don't know what I'd do."

Melinda sighed, then wrapped her arms around her sister.

"I know, Jessie. But I'm fine."  
"Yeah, this time."  
"Well, I'm not going to make a habit of going home with strange guys I meet at bars."

Jess sighed, pushing her hair back as she moved from Melinda's arms. She kept hold of her hands, though.

"Well... Was it good, at least?"

Melinda smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was … 'Good' doesn't even begin to describe it."

Jess grinned, and Melinda sighed.

"It was so good, I passed out."  
"What?! I thought that was just a myth."  
"So did I. Apparently, it can really happen."

Jess laughed, then bit her lip.

"Were you safe?"  
"Mother of God, Jessica! I do not want to have this conversation with you."  
"I just want you to be okay, Mel, and to be safe, and—"  
"We used a condom. There. Are you happy?"

Jess grimaced.

"I do not want to hear about my baby sister and condoms."  
"Well, you asked. I'm not stupid, Jess."

Jess nodded, waving her hands. Melinda smiled, shaking her head.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower, then a nap. I can feel a hangover coming on, and I plans to sleep it off."

Jess smiled and nodded. Melinda gathered her shoes again, and Jess walked her to the hall.

"Good. Go. Shower off the sex stink."

Melinda turned back and stuck her tongue out at Jess, who just laughed. She sighed as she heard the shower cut on, then went back to her room, climbing back into bed. Sam rolled over, taking her in his arms, and Jess smiled, snuggling up to him.

"Where'd you go?"

Jess grinned at his rumbly, sleepy voice.

"Mel just stumbled in."

Sam opened an eye, looking at the clock.

"It's late. Or early, depending on how you look at it."  
"So everyone keeps saying."

Sam smiled, snuggling back with Jess. Jess sighed.

"I just don't want anything to happen to her, Sam."  
"Jess, she's twenty-two. You've got to let the baby bird fly sometime."

Jess sighed again.

"I know."

She and Sam sat up then, both looking towards the door. Jess' dark eyes were wide, and Sam put a finger to his lips. He climbed out of bed, not bothering with a shirt. Jess slid her robe back on, and Sam turned back to her, whispering in her ear.

"Stay here. Don't come out until I come back for you."  
"Sam—"

He silenced her with a kiss, walking out and shutting the door behind him. He crept through the hallway, not making a sound, glancing behind him before making his way into the kitchen. Sam took a deep breath before he looked, seeing someone bent over his fridge. He stopped thinking then, and just started acting. He grabbed the intruder by the neck of his jacket, slamming him up against the wall. And received a knee to the stomach when he did. Okay, so this guy could fight back. But Sam, as usual, had a height advantage. He was about 4 inches taller than this guy, and after a little maneuvering, grunts sounding from both of them, Sam had the guy pinned down.

"Whoa, easy, Tiger."

Sam's eyes widened when he recognized the voice, and the smirk on the face. Green eyes looked back at him in the early-morning sunlight.

"Dean?"

Dean's smile grew, and Sam sighed.

"You scared the shit out of me, man."  
"That's 'cause you are out of practice, little brother. Get off me."

Sam stood up, reaching out a hand to help Dean. Dean stood, shaking himself off, straightening his beat-up leather jacket.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Dean smiled, studying Sam, laying his hands on the taller man's shoulders.

"Well, I was looking for a beer."  
"It's barely 7 in the morning."  
"So? It's five-o-clock somewhere."  
"I see you're taking after Dad some more."

Sam turned and walked into the kitchen and Dean hung his head. This was already going well.

"Look, Sammy, I—"  
"Dean, why are you here?"

Dean smiled, a genuine albeit small smile that went all the way to his eyes.

"I missed my brother."

Sam sighed, leaning up against the counter.

"After three years?"

Dean held onto the back of a chair.

"You were the one who took off, Sam. 'I need some space.' That's what the letter said. So I gave you your damn space. Was it too much or not enough?"

Sam locked eyes with his brother, able to hold the stare for about a minute.

"It was just enough. I was starting to miss you, too."

Dean smiled.

"You're such a girl."  
"Shut up, jerk."  
"Bitch."

They heard a noise behind them, and they turned to see Jess standing there, dark eyes wide. The boys smiled, and Sam walked over to her, holding out a hand for her.

"Come here. Jess, this is Dean."  
"Your brother?"

Sam smiled and nodded, and she gave Dean a megawatt smile, holding out a hand.

"Dean, it's so good to finally meet you. Sam's told me a lot about you. I'm Jess."

Dean took her hand with a smile.

"Well, I have got to say, you are way out of my brother's league."

Sam rolled his eyes as Jess laughed. She laid her hand on Sam's chest and smiled up at him.

"Why don't I get some breakfast together, and we can have a little family reunion?"

Sam nodded as he bent to kiss her, and a smile lit up Dean's face at the mention of breakfast. Jess laughed, shaking her head as she made her way into the kitchen. Dean looked over to Sam and gave him a thumb's up, and Sam groaned, going back to the bedroom for a shirt. Dean followed Jess into the kitchen, where she was scrounging up pans. He reached over her when she went on her tiptoes trying to get the flour, and she smiled.

"Thanks. Sam usually grabs it for me."  
"Yeah, that giant can come in handy."

Jess nodded with a laugh and Dean shrugged out of his jacket.

"Hey, could I borrow your bathroom for a second?"

Jess nodded, keeping her back to him as she measured out flour.

"Last door at the end of the hall. Oh, it might still be occupied, though. My sister came crawling in a little while ago and went straight for the shower."

Dean smiled and nodded as he walked down the hall. He could hear the shower going, and a very nice voice singing Mellencamp's _Jack and Diane_. He smiled at the sister's good taste in music and turned to walk back down the hall when the door opened. He turned back, stopping dead in his tracks when he met the shocked blue eyes of the girl that had just left his bed barely an hour earlier.

"Mel?"  
"Dean? What the hell are you doing here?"


	3. Chapter 3

_-THREE-_

Melinda pulled the towel tighter around her. She wasn't really sure why. This guy had already seen her naked, so why was she making a big deal out of this? Better question, why in God's name was her gorgeous, mind-blowing one night stand in her apartment? He didn't seem to be speaking anytime soon, so she swallowed, repeating her question.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"

He found his tongue this time.

"I, uh … I came to see my brother."  
"Your brother? Wh—"  
"Dean? Why are you harassing my roommate? Never mind, I know why. Leave the nice girl alone, would you? Mel, don't feed the animals, kid."

Melinda's mouth fell open as Sam turned and walked into the kitchen. She turned her attention back to Dean, speaking in a sharp whisper.

"Sam is your brother?!"

Dean let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. Melinda had flashback of the night before, running her own fingers through that hair just as she- Whoa. Stop it.

"I didn't know you were his roommate."  
"He's dating my sister."

Dean let out an "oh" as he nodded his head, and Melinda groaned, making almost the same sound as she did the night before, when she- Jesus. _Stop,_ Mel.

"Look, can we just … Pretend not to know each other?"

Dean looked up at her. Was that a hint of hurt she saw in his eyes? His gorgeous, like fresh grass on a summer day- She seriously had to stop. Melinda sighed.

"Just for now. Jess already let me have it earlier, and I'm afraid that this … us … might—Oh, hell. Shit like this only happens to me, I swear to God."  
"Hey."

Dean took her face in his hands, and Melinda stopped. Dean smiled, running his thumbs along her cheekbones.

"Calm down. You're like a rat on acid right now, so just chill out. We can play this cool. If our little … you know, ever comes up, then we'll face it. Right now, we just ran into each other in the hallway and I thought you were cute."

Melinda smiled.

"You think I'm cute?"  
"It's the wet hair. Just does something for me."

Melinda laughed and nodded.

"Okay. Thank you for understanding."

Dean nodded, letting go of her face and she hurried to her room. Dean walked in the bathroom, shutting the door and letting his head fall back against it.

What the fuck?

The girl he'd bedded turns out to be his little brother's roommate? And then wants him to play dumb and pretend like they don't know each other? Nice try, sweetheart. Like Dean could ever forget her. He still had the scratches up and down his back as a reminder. And just in case the whole thing isn't bad enough, the worst thing is, Dean agreed to go along with it. He agreed to play dumb, for the sole reason that Melinda had asked him to. And he had a sinking feeling that anything else she might ask of him, anything at all, he'd move heaven and hell to do for her.

* * *

Dean ate a delicious breakfast, courtesy of Jessica, followed by a delicious lunch, also courtesy of Jessica. No, Jess. She told him to call her Jess. He hadn't seen Melinda again, but he figured she must have lain down after her shower. Jess said Melinda got terrible hangovers, but it didn't stop her from going out. Dean understood, because he was kind of the same way. His hangovers weren't as bad as Sam's, something he had to fill Jess on, to his brother's chagrin.

After lunch, Jess shooed the boys out of the kitchen, giving them space to talk and herself space to clean. They went to the living room, Sam taking a seat in a chair and Dean sprawling on the couch like he lived there. Sam smiled as he shook his head. Dean gave him a wink, making Sam roll his eyes.

"So, uh…"

Dean looked over, seeing Sam look up from his hands.

"How's Dad?"

Dean pursed his lips.

"Fine, last I heard."

A funny look crossed Sam's face.

"Last you heard?"  
"Yeah. Couple months after you took off, so did he. Guess he was just hanging around for you."

Sam's mouth opened, and closed. He didn't know what to say.

"Dean, I—"  
"It's fine. Whatever."  
"No, it's not fine. You've been by yourself for the past three years?"  
"I said it was fine, Sam."

Sam shook his head.

"Dean, it's not—"  
"What? It's not fair? Is that what you were going to say? When has life ever been fair for us, Sam?"

Sam sighed.

"I just …"  
"It's fine, okay? I drove around till I ran out of money, then I went to Bobby's."  
"Bobby? Uncle Bobby?"

Dean nodded.

"He gave me a job at his salvage yard. Did that for a while, till I got restless, so I drove until the Impala broke down, outside of a bar called the Roadhouse. Went in to use the phone and ended up staying for almost a year."

He didn't say anything about Jo. How could he? It was still too fresh in his mind, too raw to talk about. He cleared his throat as Sam sat up, resting his forearms on his knees.

"What, Dean?"

Dean looked over to him, an expectant expression on his face. Sam's smile was gentle.

"There's something you're not telling me."

Dean smiled, nodding.

"I can't."  
"You can't?"

Dean shook his head, looking down at the floor.

"I can't, Sam. Just … Please."

Sam nodded slowly, relaxing back into his chair. Something had happened, most likely to someone Dean cared about. Sam wished Dean would just tell him, but Sam knew, because he knew his brother, that Dean would eventually get around to telling him whatever it was. Dean smiled, looking back up to Sam.

"Jess is pretty."

Sam smiled and nodded his head.

"Yeah, she is."  
"She kind of reminds me of—"  
"I know."

Dean nodded, slowly rubbing his hands together. Jess, with her long blonde hair and willowy build, reminded Dean just a bit of their mother. Mary Winchester had been the most beautiful woman Dean had ever laid eyes on. He was four when she died, but he still held some memories of her. Mary had been his whole world, until Sam was born. Dean looked over, a smile crossing his face. The chubby baby with the dark hair, who would smile and coo at him was a distant memory from the six-foot-four man sitting across from him now. Sam looked up, having been lost in memories he'd only heard of about a mother he didn't remember.

"What?"

Dean smiled.

"You need a haircut."

Sam shook his head as he smiled.

"Been here a couple hours and you're already back to bossing me around."  
"It's my job."

Jess stepped into the living room, walking over to Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder while she offered Dean a smile.

"Well, I have got to hit the library. I've got that exam tomorrow, and I will get no studying done with you two and Hungover Holly in there."

Sam smiled, lifting his face as Jess gave him a kiss.

"Dean, will you be here for a while?"

Dean smiled.

"If you'll have me."

Jess smiled, and it went all the way to her eyes.

"Then I'll see you later."

She kissed Sam again and left. Dean smiled as he watched Sam, who watched Jess leave, staring at the door for a while after she shut it. Sam turned back, seeing the smile on Dean's face and laughed.

"She's going to medical school. She's brilliant."  
"Brilliant and beautiful. So what the hell is she doing with you?"

Sam threw his head back with a laugh, before looking back at his brother.

"If I ever figure that out, I'll let you know. Jerk."  
"Bitch."

Dean smiled, standing up and stretching. Sam did the same, then turned to Dean.

"I've got to run in town for a bit. You want to come, or…?"

Dean looked down at his watch.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping for a nap."  
"Typical."

Dean flipped Sam off, making him laugh as he picked up his keys.

"Oh, hey. You brought the Impala, didn't you?"  
"Not a snowball's chance in hell, Sammy."  
"Oh, come on, Dean!"  
"I haven't seen you for three years, and you just expect me to trust you with my Baby?"

Sam rolled his eyes, letting the door slam behind him. Dean shook his head, mumbling under his breath about his car as he stretched out across the couch, resting an arm behind his head. Right when he got comfortable, just as he was about to drift off, a piercing scream from down the hall made him jump to his feet. He made his way down the hall as quickly as he could, running into different objects on the way. He threw open the last door on the right, seeing Melinda on the bed, thrashing around and screaming.

"Mel. Hey, hey, come on. Wake up, kid. Melinda!"

He flipped the light on before he sat on the edge of the bed, gently taking hold of her arms, trying to shake her awake.

"Come on, Mel. Open those baby blues."

She moaned in her sleep, and Dean sighed. At least she'd stopped screaming.

"Melinda, wake up!"

Her eyes flew open, as she fought with all she had to get out of his grip.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're okay! It's me. It's Dean."  
"D—Dean?"

He sighed, laying his hand back on her arm.

"Yeah, babe. It's Dean. You're okay."

Tears filled her eyes as she sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. She drew her knees up, resting her arms on them.

"What … was I screaming?"

Dean nodded, and Melinda let out a long sigh.

"Can you flip the light off, please? My head's starting to pound."

Dean stood up, shutting the lights off and taking his seat on her bed. She rubbed her eyes and he watched her, until she looked her tired eyes at him.

"I'm sorry. This hasn't happened in a long time."  
"You usually have nightmares?"

Melinda smiled and nodded.

"Always have."

Dean, without even realizing it, reached over and took her hand.

"Do you know why?"

Melinda's face fell, her pretty blue eyes falling to study her bedspread. Dean kept hold of her hand, even while she tried to pull it back from him.

"Mel, hey."

She looked up, and Dean gave her a little smile.

"You can talk to me, you know."

She blew out a long breath, looking over to the dark curtains covering the window in her room. She didn't know why the window even had curtains. The only thing she could see from her window was the bricks of the building next door. Actually, it had been Jess' idea to put the curtains up. And Jess had most likely gotten the idea from their mother. Melinda closed her eyes before looking back to Dean.

"Yes, I know why I have nightmares. We figured it out a long time ago."

He didn't say anything, just stared at her with those beautiful green eyes. She took in a shaky breath.

"They're not really nightmares. They're memories."  
"Memories of what?"

Melinda spoke softly, looking down at their hands, missing the look of horror that crossed Dean's face.

"The night my family was murdered."


	4. Chapter 4

_-FOUR-_

Dean stared at Melinda, who let out a sigh as she pushed her hair back from her face. She had fallen asleep while it was still wet, and it now waved gently to her shoulders. He was still holding her hand, and she kind of liked it. His hand was rough and calloused, a hand that wasn't afraid to work, and she liked the way hers fit in it.

"I don't know what to say."

Melinda smiled as she brought her eyes up to his.

"There's nothing you can say. Thanks for not telling me how sorry you are, though. I hate that."

Dean nodded, rubbing his thumb on her hand.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Melinda closed her eyes as she felt that feeling in her stomach, the one she always got when she thought of her family. She felt sick and sad and she just wanted to curl in a ball and die, but she knew she couldn't. She opened her eyes again, looking to Dean.

"It's a terrible story. It's sad and horrifying and … ugly."

He gave her a gentle smile, moving a hand to her face, pushing some hair behind her ear.

"I can take it."

He could tell that it was bothering her, that she needed to talk about it, but she wouldn't ask anyone to listen. He gently squeezed her hand and Melinda let out a long sigh.

"I was four when it happened."

She looked in his eyes when she said that, then looked down at their hands. Her voice was quiet, and if he wasn't watching the words come from her mouth, Dean would swear someone else was telling the story.

"We'd gone to the park that morning, Mama and Daddy and me. Daddy was a doctor, but he was off work that day. We played all day, and had a picnic for lunch, and we had to hurry and get home, because my brothers would get off the bus soon. Wyatt was in third grade, and Chris was in second. They didn't have any homework, and we played together all afternoon. They never wanted to play with me, because I was a girl. They loved me, I knew, but they didn't like playing with me. I wasn't good at cars and I didn't like bugs or outside or boy stuff."

Melinda smiled, still staring at their hands. Dean smiled, still holding her hand. She took in a deep breath, going on with her story.

"Mama made supper, and we ate together. We went upstairs, to get ready for bed. Mama helped me with my bath, washing my hair, because I had so much. It was long and thick and blonde, just like my dad and Wyatt. Chris' hair was dark like Mama's."

Tears gathered in her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall.

"Mama and daddy came in, tucking me in bed and reading me a story. Wyatt and Chris both came and kissed me goodnight, which was weird, because they usually didn't. It's like they knew something was going to happen."

She shut her eyes, shaking her head, letting out a shaking breath.

"I went to sleep, and I woke up when it was so dark outside. Wyatt was there, shaking me awake. He told me to get in my closet and hide. He said to be as quiet as I could, and everything would be all right."

Tears slid down her cheeks then. Dean gripped her hand and she started breathing hard.

"He helped me climb out of bed, helped me get in the closet and hide behind my clothes. He told me he loved me and that everything would be okay, and that he'd be back for me. He shut the door, and he locked it. I heard him walk away, and that's when I noticed the screaming."

She let out a sob and Dean took hold of her other hand.

"I could hear Chris, and Mama. I heard these loud sounds, and Daddy, begging someone to stop. Chris was crying, and then I couldn't hear him anymore. I heard Wyatt yelling, and then he was quiet. Mama was screaming louder, and crying, and Daddy was crying, and I heard Daddy call out Mama's name, before her screams stopped. And then I couldn't hear Daddy anymore."

Melinda was shaking, and Dean swallowed. Tears kept sliding down her face as she continued to talk.

"Three men had broken into our house. They pulled Mama and Daddy out of their bed, and Chris had a nightmare, so he was in the room with them. When Wyatt heard what was going on, he ran to me, to try and save me. He was leaving my room when one of the men found him and took him down to the living room. The noises I heard were gunshots. They shot my dad in the stomach, then Chris in the head. Wyatt was next, and they shot him in the chest. They slit my mom's throat, and shot Daddy a couple more times. The leader of this group then shot the other two, and just left."

Melinda was staring at the wall now, tears continuing to slide down her face as she spoke.

"My mom's sister came to the house later that morning, and she found them. She called the police, and when the cops got there, she told them that she couldn't find me, didn't know where I was. We knew one of the officers, Darryl. He went to my room, looking around, and opened my closet. I can still hear him. His voice was soft and gentle. Not the way I'd usually heard. He wasn't mean, he was just loud. And funny. He wasn't funny then, though."

Melinda closed her eyes, drifting back, letting the memory take over.

* * *

_ She was so scared. Where was everyone? Why hadn't Wyatt come back for her yet? Why had Mommy been crying? She stayed still behind the clothes, too scared to move around. She thought she'd heard someone calling her, but she might have fallen back to sleep. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe Wyatt had fallen asleep too, and forgotten about her._

"_Mel?"_

_ Melinda looked at the door, scooting back in the closet._

"_Melinda, sweetheart, it's Darryl. Are you here?"_

_ Darryl? Daddy's policeman friend? _

"_Please, God. Let her be here."_

_ Mommy had always told her that if something bad ever happened, Melinda should go to the police. A policeman could help her. They were there to take care of her and keep her safe. Melinda moved around in the closet, getting to her feet. She heard Darryl let out a sigh and she knocked on the closet door. It was locked, and she couldn't get out._

"_Mel? Sweetheart, are you in the closet?"_

_ Melinda knocked again, and Darryl walked over, his heart in his throat. Please God, let her be okay. He gently turned the key, pulling the door open, his heart falling when he looked down at the tiny blonde staring up at him with her wide blue eyes. He sighed, tears gathering in his eyes as he knelt down, taking her in his arms._

"_Thank God. Oh, sweetheart."_

_ Melinda laid her head on Darryl's shoulder as he lifted her. He sighed again, not even caring about the tears that were falling from his eyes. He walked out of Melinda's room as she linked her little arms around his neck. Melinda closed her eyes, and she could hear people sighing, some saying "Thank God," as Darryl carried her down the hall. He carried her down the stairs, through the dining room, moving her around to hold her against his chest so she wouldn't see the horrible, bloody scene in the living room._

* * *

She blinked her eyes, seeing Dean in front of her. He ran a hand through her hair, coming to cup her cheek, and she leaned into him.

"I don't remember much after that. I asked my mom once, about how I came to live with them. She told me about the murders, and that the police weren't sure if the killer left me behind on purpose, or if he just didn't know I was there. Then, they decided that he'd been watching our family for a while, so he knew about me. I guess my mom's two sisters were afraid he'd come back for me or something. They put me in foster care and moved away. I don't really remember them. Don't know their names or where they are, and I don't care. They gave me away, Dean."

She looked at him then, and he sighed.

"My whole world was just completely flipped upside down, and instead of trying to help me, they gave me away. I stopped talking, got pretty sick. Bounced around the system until I was six, I think? That's when the Moores got me. They already had Jess, and they wanted her to have a brother or sister, but they couldn't have any more kids. Plus, as some social worker once said, a pretty blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl can only be in the system so long before … Well, use your imagination."

A shudder went through Dean and he shut his eyes.

"Jess was nice to me, played with me. She didn't try to make me talk. She talked enough for the both of us, and I was fine with listening. I'd been doing it for two years anyway. I realized Jess and her parents weren't like some of the other people I'd been with. I started talking again. Started smiling. And when they told me they wanted me to stay with them…"

Melinda smiled, then shook her head.

"The social workers tried to talk them out of it. God only knew what kind of problems I'd have. Obviously, I'd be psychologically scarred."

Dean let out a breath, realizing he'd been gripping Melinda's hands a bit tighter than he meant. She didn't seem to mind, though. She sighed.

"They fought for me, though. And they got me. I was adopted a week before I turned 8, a couple months after Jess. Went through all sorts of therapy as a kid. Learned how to function in society. And grew up as "normal" as I could be."

Melinda nodded, letting out a sigh.

"The nightmares happened every night when I was a kid. I'd wake up screaming, and my mom would run in the room, take me in her arms, and sing to me until I'd calmed down. And she'd stay with me until I fell asleep again. When I realized I might get to stay with the Moores, the nightmares became less frequent. Every other night, instead of every night. And after I was adopted, they slacked off to every now and then. I think the last one I had was when I was 17. Just a freak thing, watching a horror movie one night, and my own personal horror story revisited that night."

Melinda ran a hand over her face.

"Mom did the same thing she'd always done, too. She ran in the room, took me in her arms. Bit different rocking a seventeen-year-old than a seven-year-old. But she held me, sang to me, ran her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep again."

Dean ran his thumb over her knuckles and she looked from their hands to his face. Her voice went quiet and tears filled her eyes again.

"I'm sorry I dumped all this on you. I just …"  
"I know. It's okay, Mel. I'm pretty good at listening myself."

She smiled and wiped a tear away.

"Hey."

Dean reached up and moved her chin to where he could look in her eyes. He smiled, catching the tear that fell on his thumb.

"It's all right, Mel. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She closed her eyes, and Dean moved, closing the space between them and setting his lips on hers. Melinda sighed, moving her hands up to cup his face. The kiss was soothing. The heat she'd felt from him the night before was still there, but it was banked. He ran his hands through her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him, moving to lay back, bringing him with her. She looked up at him when he pulled back, moving to run his hand down her face.

"Mel, I didn't… I mean, I don't… I'm not trying to—"  
"I know. It's okay. I want it—"

He bent down, covering her mouth with his again. She sighed, moving to slide her hands up under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head, letting it fall to the ground with barely a sound.


	5. Chapter 5

**I have come asking forgiveness for letting so much time pass before this update! I've kind of hit a wall with this story, and I am doing my best to work through it. I ask for your patience, which I know is a lot to ask for, but if you hang in there, I'll do my best to make it worth it!**

* * *

_-FIVE-_

Dean let out a breath, running his fingers through Melinda's wavy hair. Melinda was lying on his chest, her soft hand over his still quickly beating heart, and he spoke quietly.

"I was four when Sam was born. I was so excited, so happy about getting a baby brother. I drove my mom crazy wanting to hold him, feed him, play with him. Dad told me once that every morning, Mom would get up to go check on Sammy and I'd be in the crib with him, holding him, talking to him."

They smiled, and Melinda looked up at him. Dean was staring at the ceiling, still running his fingers through her hair.

"Dad had to work late one night. I remember spending all day with Mom and Sammy. We fed Sammy, gave him a bath, and Mom put him to bed. I can remember her coming to my room to get me, and she picked me up and carried me to Sam's nursery. I gave baby Sam a kiss, and my dad was there. I ran to him and he held me. Mom walked over, past us, and Dad told Sam goodnight, then shut the door. He took me to my room, tucked me in bed, kissed me goodnight. Mom walked in and kissed my forehead, telling me that angels were watching over me. She always told me that."

Dean swallowed over the lump in his throat that always seemed to appear when he spoke of his mother.

"I rolled over, and the next thing I knew, I heard a scream. I jumped out of bed, running towards Sam's room. I'm not sure why. I guess my whole life, I've always been geared to protect Sam above all else. I stood in the hall outside Sam's room, and suddenly, my dad was there. He pushed Sam into my arms and told me to run. To go, take Sammy outside and not look back. So, I did."

Melinda was staring up at him, her chin resting on his chest. Dean took in a shaky breath.

"I ran outside with Sam, holding tight to him. I had to make sure he was safe. As long as Sam was okay, then I would be, too. Then Dad was there. He picked me up while he was running, and that's when the windows in Sam's room exploded."

Melinda covered her mouth with her hand and Dean spoke, his voice thick.

"Mom had heard something, smelled something, maybe. She got up to check on Sam, and there was a fire in his room. She pushed his crib out of the way and slipped on something. Dad heard her scream and ran in. She told him to save Sammy, so he picked Sam up and handed him off to me. He turned back to get Mom, but …"

Dean shook his head and Melinda let out a breath.

"Oh, Dean."  
"They said it was faulty wiring. Old house, you know."

Melinda was quiet, moving closer to him, resting her hands on his chest, putting her head on her hands. Dean sighed, rubbed his eyes.

"Dad never got over it. He gathered me and Sammy, and what was left from the fire, and took off. He raised us on the road, and did a shitty job of it. I was the one who raised Sammy. I was more of a father to him than our dad was."

Melinda raised a hand, letting it roll over Dean's face.

"You shouldn't have had to do that."

He let out a laugh, one without a bit of humor in it.

"Damn right. Dad was too drunk most of the time to worry about us. Someone had to."

Dean laid back against the pillows, closing his eyes, letting his memories take him back.

"I was the one who would wake Sammy up in the mornings, get him dressed, feed him breakfast if we had it. I was the one who fixed his lunch, or I'd snake some money from Dad for him. I'd get him to school, pick him up, make sure he did his homework. I'd feed him dinner, if we had it."

He opened his eyes, staring at the popcorn ceiling, feeling Melinda's blue eyes on him.

"I was always the one that was there for Sam. His first word was 'Dean.' The first steps he took were towards me. When he was sick, he wanted me. When he was scared, he'd come to me. Dad …"

Dean shook his head.

"I think Sammy called him 'Dad' because he had to. He was never… I was more of a father to Sam than Dad was."

Dean looked down when Melinda laid a hand on his face. She let her knuckles run slowly down his cheek, speaking softly.

"You never got to be a child. That's not fair, Dean."

Dean smirked, meeting Melinda's eyes.

"Life's not fair, kid."

Melinda smiled, laying her head back on his chest and letting out a sigh.

"I know."

They sat in silence for a minute, until Dean moved his hand to lace his fingers with Melinda's. Melinda watched for a second, then looked back up to Dean's eyes.

"What happened? How did Sam end up here?"

Dean sighed.

"Kid always was a genius. No matter where Dad dropped us, Sam would ace all his classes. I didn't … I didn't even know he was even thinking about college until he dropped the bombshell that he got a full ride here. To Stanford."

Dean closed his eyes, scrubbed his hand over his face.

"Dad completely blew a gasket over it. He was drunk off his ass, screaming at Sam, and, not for the first time, Sam was screaming right back. I mean, when I walked in, they were nose-to-nose, at the top of their lungs."

He shook his head again.

"Neither one would listen to reason. Sam had already packed what little shit he had, and he was going, whether we liked it or not. And Dad said to him, 'You walk out that door, don't you ever come back.' I guess it was sort of poetic when Sam slammed the damn door shut behind him."

Melinda sighed, and Dean smiled.

"Don't tell me you're sorry."

Melinda smiled at him.

"What, you can read my mind now?"

Dean let out a laugh as she moved in closer to him, laying her head right over his heart. Dean ran his fingers through her hair.

"Sam was always different. I'm like a carbon copy of my dad. I dress like him, listen to the same music as he does…"

Dean snorted.

"I drink like him."

He sighed and shook his head.

"But Sam's not like that. He's always been quiet, and smart. He loved to read when he was younger. I dropped out of school first chance I got. But I made Sam stay in, and I made sure he graduated. Not that he needed my help, little bastard."

Melinda laughed, and Dean smiled.

"I think I always knew he wouldn't stick around. He hated growing up the way we did. I thought it was kind of cool, you know? Never really knowing where you'll end up. Different town each month."  
"You've got a gypsy soul, Dean Winchester."

He smiled again.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

Melinda spoke quietly then.

"Sometimes I think I'd like to go. I've been here, in California, for as long as I can remember. I think I'd like to go, see the world."

She smiled, looking back at her finger, which was making little shapes and symbols on Dean's chest.

"I don't think I ever will, though."

Dean understood, and even though he didn't say anything, Melinda just knew. She sighed and moved closer to him, and he tightened his grip around her just a bit. After a minute of silence, Dean spoke.

"Your hair is so soft."

Melinda smiled. He'd spoken so quietly she thought she might have imagined hearing him. She let out a sigh, and so did Dean, until he tapped her on the top of her head.

"Hey."

She moved where she could look at him and he smiled, his eyes softening. He spoke quietly again, the grin still on his face.

"Come here."

A smile spread across Melinda's face as she moved up, taking hold of Dean's face as she sat up, pressing her lips to his. He smiled through the kiss, wrapping his arms around her, letting out a groan when her tongue flicked against his. Melinda let out a laugh then, but it quickly faded into a moan when Dean broke away from her lips to kiss down her neck. She moved her hands to hold his head to her, and she let out a yelp, then giggled.

"Damn it, Dean."

He lifted his head to look at her, green eyes wide and innocent.

"What?"

Melinda laughed, running a hand through his hair.

"You just gave me a hickey."  
"What? I did not."

He smiled at her, laughing when she did. She pushed him and he sat up with, letting the blankets fall from around them as Melinda sat up, too. She took hold of his face again, lifting his chin, leaving little love bites all along his jaw while he moaned, digging his fingers into her hips, before she moved down to his neck, leaving her mark on him. She pulled back, looking him in the eye again, running the tip of her finger over his hickey.

"There. Now we're even."

Dean smiled at her, leaning to kiss her again.

"You're pretty."

Melinda let out a laugh as he wrapped his arms around her again and laid her back against the pillows. He settled down on top of her, careful not to rest his full weight on her, content with just holding her and kissing her for now. Things got pretty heated pretty quickly, though, and when Melinda was moving beneath him, mimicking his exact moves, Dean moved a hand down. Melinda let out a long, low groan and Dean clenched his teeth together. His breathing sped up, and he leaned back to look down at her.

"Mel—"  
"In the drawer."

She motioned with her head and Dean smiled, leaning down to kiss her again as he reached out his hand.

"Mel? You home?"

Dean froze, looking down at Melinda.

"Was that…?"  
"No."  
"Please tell me that wasn't—"  
"Oh, God."

They looked at each other as they heard their names being called again, this time accompanied by footsteps coming down the hall. Melinda closed her eyes.

"Shit."

Dean let out a sigh, hanging his head as Melinda's door swung open.

"Mel, are you … What the – Oh my God!"

Dean let his forehead rest on Melinda's as Jess covered her face with her hands.

"Jess?"  
"Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty."

Dean blew out his breath as Sam walked into the room, and Melinda covered her face with her hands. Dean was effectively covering the rest of her, so he reached down and pulled the blankets back around them. Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Dean, what the hell is—"  
"For the love of all things holy, do not finish that sentence. I am begging you."

Melinda's request was muffled from her hands, but Sam listened. He blew out his breath, laying his hands on his hips. Sam let out a laugh as Dean glanced over at him, and Sam's eyes were hard.

"I guess I should have known. Typical."

Sam turned and walked away, and Jess followed after him, then came back and shut the door behind her. Melinda pushed her hands through her hair as Dean moved to lay back beside her. He blew out his breath.

"Well, that went well."


	6. Chapter 6

_-SIX-_

Melinda sat at the kitchen table in her bathrobe, while Jess paced around the kitchen. In Melinda's room, a nearly mirror-act was occurring, with Dean back in his jeans, getting dressed as Sam paced the room, shaking his head. Melinda sighed as Jess finally stopped, turning to face her.

"How could you do this, Mel?"

Melinda held out her hands, palms up.

"Do what?"  
"You slept with Sam's brother!"  
"No, Sam's brother was my one-night stand."  
"What?!"  
"I just didn't know it at the time."

Jess' mouth hung open, and Melinda sighed again.

"Jessie, don't make a big deal out of this."  
"Melinda, come on!"

Melinda pillowed her head on her arms as Jess went back to pacing.

* * *

Sam let out a laugh as he shook his head. Dean slid his shirt on and turned to Sam.

"Okay, let's hear it. Come on, Sam. Out with it."

Sam turned to face him, letting out a breath.

"Dean, this is my girlfriend's sister. **MY** girlfriend's sister!"  
"I heard you the first time, Sam."  
"I should have expected this I guess, but my God, Dean!"

Dean sat on the bed, lacing his boots up and letting out a sigh. He looked up to Sam, resting his hands on his knees.

"You done?"

Sam shot him a look. Hell no, he was not done. Not by a long shot. He let out a sigh.

"Dean, look."  
"No, _Dad_, you look. I'm not twelve years old, okay? **I** gave **you** 'The Talk,' for Christ's sake. I know how to treat a woman and frankly, I'm good at it."

Sam stood back, nodding his head, letting Dean go. He crossed his arms over his chest when Dean stood up, grabbing his overshirt and sliding it on. Sam took in a breath, making sure his words were gentle, yet still packing a punch.

"Yeah, I'll give you that. But let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we? Who was the one who always—and I do mean _always,_ Dean—had to listen to the girls cry on the phone when you wouldn't answer? The one who had to break the news that 'Sorry, sugar, this was a one-time thing"? That's right, man. Me."

Dean looked down at the ground, and Sam ran a hand over his neck.

"This is Melinda, Dean. She's Jess' little sister, and I'm kind of protective of her myself. If I'd known you were coming into town, I …"

Sam let his sentence trail off, and Dean looked up at him, a painful smile on his face.

"You would have kept her far away from me?"

Sam let out a breath.

"I didn't say that."  
"You didn't have to, Sammy."

Sam turned away, walking a bit with his hands on his hips. He turned to Melinda's window with the black-out curtains, letting out another breath. He didn't turn around, just spoke quietly.

"What am I supposed to do when you take off this time?"

Dean didn't speak, but he watched his brother. Sam glanced behind him, letting a small smile cross his face.

"What am I supposed to say to Mel when you go? This wasn't just some random chick, some bar bunny in some hole-in-the-wall town. This is my roommate, and my girlfriend's sister. I can't just flash her a smile, tell her to 'Stay gold.'"

Dean smiled at that. He'd watched _The Outsiders_ one summer, when Sam had just turned thirteen. Sam had devoured the book, loving every word of every chapter, and when they'd stumbled into a town that was showing the movie at their local theater, the boys had spent an entire day there, sneaking into different theaters, watching the movie over and over again. Dean had picked up the '_Stay gold, Ponyboy_,' line and clung to it, using it every chance he got, driving both Sam and their father absolutely crazy with it. And Sam picked it up as well, using it as a final nail in the coffin to whatever pretty girl Dean had batted his ridiculously long eyelashes at that week.

The boys looked over at each other, both having been lost in their memories for a moment. Dean cleared his throat.

"What if … What if I didn't take off this time? What if … What if I stayed?"

Sam's hazel eyes went wide, and he crossed his arms back over his chest, while the side of Dean's mouth quirked up. He'd known Sam for the past twenty-two years. He knew all about him, what he was afraid of, who his heroes were, his hopes and dreams, his regrets. And he knew his body language, the things he said without using a single word. And when Sam gave him that particular look, with his arms crossed over his massive chest, that meant "_I'm_ _listening_."

"I mean, I was just thinking, I'm twenty-six years old. I've seen every damn sight there is to see in the continental U.S. I'm kind of tired of driving, you know? Maybe … Maybe it might be nice to put down some roots. At least for a while."

Sam nodded, not smiling just yet. Dean knew that meant Sam was weighing the options in his mind.

"What about Dad, Dean? What if he calls?"

Dean smiled, snorted.

"Dad's not going to call, Sammy. If he does, then something's probably wrong, and I'm hauling your ass with me to go see."

Sam shook his head, but smiled.

"I'd like to see you try. Jerk."

Dean grinned.

"Bitch."

Sam matched his grin at Dean's automatic reply, shaking his head. After a moment, he lifted his eyes to Dean's.

"You really think you'll stay?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, but a smile was on his face.

"I want to. At least for right now. I might change my mind later, but anybody could. Even you, college boy."

Sam let out a quiet laugh, then turned to Dean, who was standing beside him, his hands in his pockets.

"I'd really love to have you here, Dean."

Dean smiled, trying to hide it, but Sam saw it anyway.

"Well, are we done with this chick-flick bullshit? I can feel my balls shriveling up as we speak."

Sam let out a laugh, making Dean smile as he watched his brother double over. When Sam had calmed down, he slapped Dean on the back.

"So, Sammy… It's cool if I crash with you, right?"

Sam hung his head.

"You've been in this apartment for all of what, twelve hours? And you're already starting to mooch off me?"  
"Nobody says 'mooch' anymore, Grandpa."

Sam didn't even try to stop the smile from crossing his face.

"Shut up, Dean."

* * *

Melinda was staring at her fingernails, thinking about painting them, while Jess was still pacing around the kitchen. She flicked a glance to the table, letting out a long sigh, and Melinda laid her hands on the table.

"What? I know you want to say something, Blondie, so just … Out with it."

Jess nodded, coming to sit across from Melinda. She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but …"

Melinda smiled, shaking her head. That was never a good introductory sentence. She waited, instead of saying anything, and Jess looked up at her.

"Mel, what am I supposed to do now?"

Melinda gave her a look, and Jess sighed.

"Kid, listen. You're beautiful. Guys know that, and they love that about you. You're funny and sweet, and you make the guys feel like they can conquer the world."

A smile crossed Melinda's face. Jess saw it, and pushed on.

"But … sex is kind of like the kiss of death for you. You sleep with a guy, and that's it. You don't call, you won't answer when they call, and when I get tired of hearing the damn phone ring, I have to give them some bogus excuse as to why you've suddenly dropped them."

Melinda's smile fell, and Jess sighed.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings, Mel, but it's happened more times than I can count."  
"That's an awful nice way to call me a whore, Jess."

Melinda stood up, pulling her robe tighter around her. Jess sighed and hung her head.

"That's not what I'm trying to do, honey. I'm just saying that …"

Jess let out a breath, coming to stand behind Melinda.

"This is Sam's brother. Their relationship is fragile anyway, and—"  
"I may have just ruined it."

Melinda turned away from her sister, walking back to the table. Jess closed her eyes.

"This isn't going at all how I wanted it to. I'm not saying what I want to say."  
"I think you're doing just fine, Jessica."  
"Don't be mad at me, Mel."

Melinda smiled, nodding her head. She pushed the chair back in at the table, looking over to her sister.

"I'll clean up my own mess this time, Jess. You can sit this one out."  
"Melinda, wait."

But she wouldn't. She walked out of the kitchen, ignoring Jessica's calls for her, pushing open her bedroom door. The brothers turned from the window to look at her, both of them just standing with their hands in their pockets. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't. She saw Dean's eyes change, and he started to take a step to her. She held up a hand and cleared her throat.

"I, uh … I need to get dressed, so…"

Sam nodded, walking out of the room. Dean followed him to the door, then closed it, turning to lean against it. Melinda looked back and sighed.

"Dean, I need to get dressed."  
"Sweetheart, after the past 24 hours or so, I really don't think we have anything to hide from each other."

Melinda sighed again, going to stand in front of her closet, crossing her arms over her chest. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, fighting the urge to crawl under her clothes, to that back corner of the closet, like she used to do when she was a child. She felt the gentle hands on her shoulders, biting back the sob that threatened to escape her throat. Dean spoke quietly, right in her ear.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Melinda shook her head, fighting to keep the tears at bay, and when she was sure she wouldn't cry, she turned to face Dean.

"Jess just cleared a few things up for me."  
"Like what?"

Melinda let out a sigh, while Dean twirled the ends of her hair around his fingertips. She looked at him, and when she realized he wasn't letting this go, she sighed again.

"I don't usually do … what we did last night."

Dean brought his eyes to hers, and she sighed around a smile.

"I don't go home with random guys I meet in bars."

Dean nodded.

"To tell you the truth, you are the first guy to ever pick me up and take me home. Well, if you can call that motel 'home'."

Dean let out a laugh, and Melinda looked down, to his throat. She spoke quietly.

"I meet a guy, get to know him. We'll go out, have some fun. I make him fall for me, and after we sleep together, I end it. As Jess put it, 'Sex is like the kiss of death for me.'"

Dean fought the smile that wanted to cross his face.

"So, by now …"  
"Whatever this is between us should be good and over."

Dean nodded.

"There's just one problem with that."

Melinda brought her eyes up to his, and he let the smile come.

"We've had sex twice, Mel. Almost three times."

Melinda's eyes widened, and she let out a surprised little 'huh.' Dean took hold of her face, lifting her chin and pressing his lips against hers. She let out a little moan before reaching up to grip his shoulders as he smiled against her mouth. He broke off the kiss when he had to either breathe or suffocate, resting his forehead against Melinda's as they both were breathing hard. He spoke quietly.

"I'm not one to stick around, Mel. I'm usually gone before there's even a chance for a morning after."

Melinda smiled, keeping her eyes closed.

"Guess we're more alike than we thought."

Dean smiled, his eyes closed as well.

"Mel, I don't want to scare you or pressure you or anything like that. I'm not looking for anything, okay?"

She nodded against his head, and he leaned to kiss her again. After, he pulled back to look at her.

"I'm gonna stick around, Mel. I don't know for how long, but I'm here. And I want to … to keep seeing you. I like being with you, and not just for sex."  
"Even though **that** is amazing."

Dean closed his eyes as he nodded, making Melinda laugh. He ran a hand through her hair and smiled.

"Get dressed. Sam was making noises about going to eat somewhere."

Melinda nodded, and Dean kissed her forehead before he left the room. Melinda sighed as she sank back against her closet door.

* * *

Melinda was pleasantly surprised by how good a time she had at dinner with Sam, Jess, and Dean. They talked and laughed, Sam and Dean both bringing up funny stories from their childhood, causing the girls to double over. They came back kind of early, since Sam had an interview with the law school the next morning. He and Jess went on to bed, so she could study a little more, leaving Melinda and Dean together. Sam had given Dean specific instructions that he could sleep on the couch or in the Impala, to which Dean had given him an equally specific "Fuck you."

* * *

Melinda walked into the living room with two beers dangling from her fingers. She handed one to Dean, then lifted a foot, slipping her shoe off. She did the same thing to her other foot, and Dean was captivated by that, until she sat beside him on the couch. He popped the top on his beer, motioning to her, and she smiled as she let him open hers, too.

"Thanks."  
"Don't mention it."

They smiled at each other, taking long pulls of their beers. They sat in a companionable silence for a while, until Dean's imagination got the best of him.

"So."

Melinda turned to face him, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Dean swallowed before he spoke.

"I get why my geek brother's in bed. Ditto for your sister, with her big test tomorrow. Why are you still up with me?"

Melinda smiled and opened her mouth, before Dean stopped her.

"Not that I'm knocking your company. I actually enjoy it immensely."

Melinda let out a laugh.

"Impressive word, 'immensely.'"

Dean smiled and shrugged his shoulders, taking another drink of his beer. Melinda smiled at him.

"I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Dean seemed to be waiting for a better explanation, and Melinda let out a sigh.

"I'm an English major. Mainly because I have no fucking clue what I want to do with my life. Jessie's going to be a doctor. Sam's going to be a lawyer. And I couldn't stand the thought of having a degree in General Studies. I hate math and history, I get squeamish with medical stuff, lawyer stuff makes me sleepy, so I went with English. I'm a fairly good writer, and I could teach or something, I guess."

Melinda looked down at her beer, smiling as she rolled it around in her hands.

"Drives my parents crazy."

Dean draped his arm over the back of the couch and Melinda brought her eyes to his.

"One daughter's going to be a doctor and save the world, and the other … Well, at least she went to college, you know?"

Dean let out a sigh, fingering the ends of her hair, turning his beer up to drain the last of it. Melinda stood up, holding out a hand for him. He looked at her hand, then up to her face. She smiled at him.

"I'm tired. You coming?"

Dean glanced at the couch and Melinda let out a laugh.

"I know Sam told you to sleep here, but that couch blows. Plus, in my bed, there'll be a warm, naked girl waiting for you to finish what you started earlier. Round 3, I believe."

Before she finished that sentence, Dean was off the couch like a bullet out of a gun, scooping Melinda in his arms. She put her face in his neck and laughed as he hurried down the hall to her room, shutting it behind him.

"Lock it this time, would ya?"

Dean laughed as he turned the lock, pulling his shirt off on the way to the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

_-SEVEN-_

Sam's law school interview went surprisingly well. Well, surprisingly to him. Everyone else knew he'd ace it, which of course, he did. Jess not only aced her test, but she made the highest grade in her class. Put both of those together, and the only natural thing to do was celebrate. And celebrate they did, so much so that Melinda missed her classes on Tuesday. Since all four were more than a little hungover, no one bothered to pay attention to the date.

But they should have.

On November 2, exactly twenty-two years to the day that their mother died, Dean woke with a start. Melinda was cuddled up next to him, her face in his chest, and she let out a quiet moan when she felt him move.

"Did you hear that?"  
"Hmm?"

Dean heard it again. He wasn't sure, but it sounded an awful lot like Sam. He was calling out for Dean, but he sounded so far away. What was drowning him out? It sounded like a roar, something Dean recognized, but… He just couldn't place it. He pushed the covers off of him and Melinda rolled, allowing him to stand. He walked to the door, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He went to open Melinda's door.

"Son of a bitch!"

Melinda sat up, wearing Dean's t-shirt, which was about 4 sizes too big for her. Dean was shaking his hand out, putting his other flat against the door. Melinda's eyes grew wide.

"Do you smell that?"

He sniffed, and Melinda climbed out of the bed. She walked over, laying a hand on the wall beside the door, pulling back when she felt the heat.

"Dean, I think the apartment's on fire."

He was breathing hard, and he did the only thing he could think of right then. He yelled for his brother. Melinda screamed Jess' name, but the only thing they could hear was the roar of the fire outside the door. Dean reached for the doorknob again, but Melinda grabbed his hand.

"Dean, we—we've got to get out of here!"

He looked around behind them, turning to pull the blanket off the bed and shoving it at the bottom of the door. It was a little late for that, since the room was quickly filling up with smoke. Melinda was coughing, and her eyes were burning, tears sliding down her cheeks. Dean was coughing just as badly, and his hand was burned, from the melting doorknob he'd grabbed. He went to the window as Melinda laid her hands on the door, backing up when she felt the heat that seemed to pour through the wood. Dean wrapped Melinda's jacket around his arm and hit the window as hard as he could, breaking the glass. He stuck his head out, taking in a deep breath, coughing until he gagged, doing his best to breathe the fresh air. He looked down. They were on the second floor, about ten feet from the ground, but they had no other choice.

"Mel, come here."

She coughed as she walked over to him, and he pushed her head out the window. She sucked in a breath, gagging like Dean had, but breathing clearly for a moment.

"We've got to jump, Mel."  
"What?"  
"We don't have a choice. The fire's right out the door. This is our only chance."

She shook her head, looking down.

"Dean, I—I can't."  
"Yes, you can. You have to."

She looked behind her, able to see the orange flames eating through the wall. Dean hoisted himself up, sliding his legs out through the window.

"I'm going to go, and you jump to me, okay? I'll catch you, Mel. I promise."

Dean jumped, and Melinda heard him groan and call something a "son of a bitch" as he landed on the ground. She noticed sirens screaming around them, and she started breathing hard. The door splintered then, flying open as the fire engulfed it. Melinda swallowed, turning to hoist herself onto the window, letting out a gasp of pain. She closed her eyes, holding onto the windowsill.

"Come on! Mel, jump, baby!"

She looked down, seeing Dean below her, with his arms up. She screamed when the window above her shattered, as fire licked at her and glass came raining down, and she pushed off from the sill. She felt a snap as she landed, before she and Dean fell to the ground, with him holding her to his chest.

"Are you okay? Mel. Mel, look at me. Are you okay?"

Melinda brought her eyes to Dean's, and he sighed.

"You okay? Are you hurt?"

She looked over, feeling like she was moving in slow motion.

"Oh, son of a bitch. Mel."

Her right arm was covered in blood, and a piece of glass was sticking out, just above her elbow. Dean tried to pull her closer, but she gasped. He touched her again as she sucked in a breath, then pushed the too-big shirt up, seeing the angry red of the skin of her back, where the fire had gotten too close.

"Goddamn it."  
"I think … I think my ankle is broken."

Dean looked down, barely having heard her quiet voice, letting out a sigh before looking back to her face.

"No. No, no, Melinda. Hey. Don't you dare pass out on me. We've got to find Sam and Jess. Come on, kid."

Melinda was pale, her pupils dilated so that only a thin ring of blue was visible. Her arm was pouring blood, and Dean knew that he'd have to wait on finding Sam. Melinda needed help, and she needed it right then. He gathered her in his arms and stood up, moving as quickly as he could away from the building as more windows blew, as glass rained down, shards sticking in Dean's bare back.

"Hang on, babe. Just hold on for me."

Melinda had her arm around his neck, while the one with the glass in it hung down by her side. Her head was next to his, lolling backwards until she would catch it, trying her best to hold on to consciousness. Dean rounded the corner of the building, stopping when he saw the crowd that had gathered, along with three fire trucks and as many ambulances. He scoped out the nearest one and walked over to it.

"Hey, my … She needs help."

He laid Melinda on a stretcher, and she moaned as her back touched the bed. She tried to move to her right side, but that was where the glass was embedded in her arm. The burns were on her left side, where her broken ankle also was. The paramedic glanced over to his partner.

"She needs to go."

The other medic nodded, before walking over and laying a hand on Dean's bare shoulder.

"You should come with us, too. Those cuts look nasty, and your hand needs some attention."

Dean glanced down, just then realizing how badly his hand actually hurt. He tried to make a fist and let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.

"No, I—I need to find my brother. He was on the second floor with us."

Dean coughed, so badly that he doubled over, but he allowed the medic to lead him over to sit on the back of the ambulance. An oxygen mask was slipped over his nose and mouth, and he looked over to see an identical one on Melinda's face. She was staring at him, wide eyes scared and so very close to losing consciousness. She reached her left hand for him, and he took it. She said something, but it was muffled from the oxygen mask. Dean moved his from his face, keeping hold of her hand.

"What? Mel, what did you say?"

He walked over, into the ambulance, reaching to move her mask from her mouth. Melinda coughed, looking up to him.

"Please don't leave me."

Dean's heart broke, both for Melinda and his brother. He didn't know if Sam was okay, and he knew he wouldn't be okay until he knew for sure. Sam was his responsibility; he was supposed to look out for him and take care of him. But right then, Dean just couldn't leave Melinda alone. He didn't want her to ever be left alone again. He knelt down, moving the mask back on her face and running his hand through her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mel. I'm right here."

She nodded, and Dean coughed, moving the mask back on his face. He glanced to the paramedic, who was waiting with an expectant look on his face. Dean nodded, and the back doors were shut. The ambulance started up and Dean looked over, noticing how blood had seeped through the bandage they had wrapped around Melinda's arm.

"Hold on, Mel. Hang on for me."

She tried, but as the ambulance pulled away from the building, her hand went limp in Dean's. He shot a look to the medic, who made him lay on the stretcher, on his stomach so as not to push the shards of glass further into his back. Dean felt a prick in his arm as the medic slid an IV in. He felt foggy all of a sudden, and he took in a deep breath of the clean oxygen in his mask, and that was all he knew.

* * *

"Dean? Can you hear me?"

Dean let out a groan. Damn, but his back hurt. He'd wrenched it or something, not to mention the pain in his knee and the absolute ache of ... what was that, his hand?

"Come on, you asshole. Open your eyes."

Now _that_ was a wake-up he was used to. He opened his eyes slowly, coming to consciousness to realize that he was on his stomach, gripping a pillow under his head.

"There we go. Hey there, Sleeping Beauty."

Dean looked over, seeing Sam let out a breath. He was dirty, his face smeared with what Dean could only guess was soot. He looked tired, but he smiled at his brother.

"You look like hell."

Sam laughed, trailing off into a cough. Dean's voice sounded as though he had swallowed sandpaper. When Sam could breathe again, he brought tear-filled eyes back to Dean, exhaling slowly.

"You scared me, man."  
"I'm right here, Sammy."

Sam nodded, sniffing, ignoring the single tear that rolled down his face. Dean ignored it too, shifting in the bed, letting out a groan.

"What the hell happened? My back is fucking killing me."

Sam sighed.

"There was a fire."

Dean stopped, letting that sink in for a moment before he nodded.

"I remember. I thought I heard you calling me."  
"I was. Jess was dragging me out the door, and I was screaming for you."

Dean tried to sit up, sagging back down with a groan.

"Mel. Sammy, what happened to Mel? Is she okay?"

Sam let out a long breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. Dean started to get up again, but Sam gently pushed him down.

"Dean, take it easy. Don't make me go get the nurse."

Dean lay down, looking over to Sam.

"Mel's in surgery right now. The glass in her arm cut an artery, which is why she was bleeding so badly. They're trying to save it now, and set her ankle, and she has to have a debridement or something on her back."  
"But she's … She's okay?"

Sam nodded.

"They think she'll be fine."

Dean nodded, letting out a long breath.

"And Jess?"  
"She's fine. Calling her mom and dad, letting them know about everything."

Sam coughed again, enough to grip the side of Dean's bed.

"Sammy, you should get that checked out."  
"I'm fine, Dean."  
"Oh, yeah. You sound just fine, coughing up a lung like that."

Sam sighed.

"It's just a little smoke inhalation."  
"Oh, Dr. Winchester. When did you get your medical degree?"  
"I'm getting the nurse, see if she can give you some more of whatever it was that knocked your ass out."

Dean rolled his eyes, gripping his pillow again. A nap didn't really sound all that bad, to tell the truth. He let his eyes drift close, knowing that Sam was right there, that he wouldn't be going anywhere. And sure enough, the last thing Dean heard before he drifted off was Sam's deep voice.

"I'm right here, Dean. I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

The next day, Dean was going a bit stir-crazy. The doctors were almost ready to let him start putting pressure on his back, which was good, because Dean could only stare at the wall for so long before he wanted to put his fist through it. Melinda hadn't woken up from surgery yet, which they said was nothing out of the ordinary. Her body had been through a lot, and mixed in with the anesthesia, she could be out for still a while longer. The Moores arrived that afternoon, saying hello to Sam, meeting Dean, and whisking Jessica off to sit with Melinda. Dean hadn't been to see her yet, wouldn't be able to go at all until maybe tomorrow, and that wasn't sitting well with him one bit. Right before visiting hours ended that night, when Dean was just beginning to lay on his back for the first time, he heard a familiar, gruff voice.

"Can't let you out of my sight for a damn minute before you're getting caught up in something like this."

Dean smiled as he looked over to the door.

"Bobby."

Bobby Singer, surrogate uncle and father figure, walked into Dean's room. He went to the bed, taking the hand Dean lifted for him and squeezing it.

"How the hell are you, Bobby?"  
"I think I'm supposed to be asking you that, son."

Dean smiled and Bobby took a seat, moving the chair closer to Dean's bed.

"Where's your brother?"  
"With his girl."

Bobby nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"How are you feeling, Dean?"

Dean smiled.

"My back is aching. It stings, like a million little bees buzzing over it. My knee is throbbing like a son of a bitch. And my hand … I think I melted off my fingerprints."

He held up his hand, wrapped in gauze and looking, to quote Jess, like a polar bear paw, and Bobby shook his head.

"Thank God you got out of there."

Dean nodded, and Bobby cleared his throat.

"You call your dad?"

Dean smiled as he looked over to the chair.

"Now, Bobby. Why in the hell would I do something like that?"  
"Dean…"  
"No. John's busy. I'll call him when I get out of here."  
"Son, this is all over the news. I called Sam right when I saw, after you didn't answer your damn phone."

They let out matching sighs, until Dean spoke softly.

"If it's all over the news, I bet he already knows. And look around."

Bobby hung his head.

"You're here. He can't even pick up the goddamned phone."  
"Maybe he's just—"  
"Yeah, I know. Busy. He's been busy for the past twenty-two years."

Bobby sighed again, and Dean shifted in the bed, wincing.

"Damn it. Now I've gotten used to lying on my stomach. This feels weird."  
"Maybe because you had a window's worth of glass embedded in your flesh?"

Dean sighed and Bobby smiled as Sam stepped into the room. Bobby stood up, walking to stand in front of Sam.

"Damn it, boy. You got tall."

Sam smiled, leaning over to wrap Bobby in a hug.

"Good to see you, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby smiled, slapping Sam on the back. Dean snorted from the bed.

"Well, aren't you ladies sweet?"  
"Shut up, Dean."

Dean laughed at the twin voices speaking at once, groaning when the movement brought forth that ache in his chest. He still had oxygen in his nose, because Dean's smoke inhalation, as little as it had been, had turned out to be a bad case. Almost as bad as Sam's, who was still short of breath, but refused to be put in a bed. He had agreed to regular breathing treatments to clean out his lungs, in between bouts of coughing that seemed to rise up from his toes. He spent every night in Dean's room, with an oxygen mask on his face. He waited until he thought Dean was asleep before he'd let the nurse put the mask on him, and Dean just let him, not saying a word. Dean glanced over, seeing Sam and Bobby talking low by the door.

"Hey, how's Melinda?"

Sam stopped whatever he was saying to Bobby, looking over to the bed. He took in a breath before he stepped closer to Dean, sliding his hands in his pockets.

"She's not doing so hot, Dean."  
"What?"

Dean felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"Sam, what are you talking about?"

Sam walked over to the bed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. That was a Winchester "I've got bad news I don't know how to tell you about" move if he'd ever seen one. Dean swallowed, and Bobby inched closer to the boys. Sam sighed.

"She had some kind of reaction to either the medicine they gave her or the anesthesia from the surgery. Her, uh … Her heart stopped earlier. But she's—she's okay. They brought her back. She still hasn't woken up, and they won't know if she's got any brain damage or how bad it is until she wakes up."

Dean closed his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow. What the hell had happened? More importantly, why was it, three days after he met the girl, Dean felt like his entire world was falling apart since she wasn't all right? He kept his eyes closed until he was sure he wouldn't cry, something else he didn't understand, then looked up to Sam.

"She's going to be okay."

It wasn't a question, but Sam wasn't sure if Dean had meant it to be, or if he'd said it to reassure himself. Sam sighed, going on.

"Dean, she … By the time they figured out what was going on… By the time her heart had stopped, she'd stopped breathing. They're not sure how long, but she went without oxygen for at least three minutes."  
"Oh, damn it."

Dean looked over to Bobby, who ran a hand over his face. Bobby knew a little bit about a whole lot of things, and he'd imparted a great deal of his wisdom to both Sam and Dean. Dean knew a little more, after the time he had spent with Bobby when Sam went off to school. He often liked to tell people, "I know a little bit about a lot of things, just enough to make me dangerous." Girls ate that up. Sam sighed and went on.

"She's on a ventilator right now, up in ICU."

Okay, now that was bad. Dean knew how bad that could turn out to be, and he felt his heart speed up. He was breathing hard, trying and failing to fill his lungs with oxygen. Goddamn it, how could this happen again? He squeezed his eyes shut. Not Mel. Not her. Not _now_, when he'd just found her. He didn't even know her. He needed time with her; _they_ needed more time together.

"Dean, hey. I know it's hard, but try and calm down."

Dean noticed then how the heavy beating of his heart had increased the beeping on that damn monitor and he tried to let out a breath. After a few seconds, Dean looked up, green eyes determined.

"She'll be fine."

Sam sighed, but he nodded. Dean repeated himself, though whether to drive his point home to Sam or to convince himself, he wasn't sure.

"She'll be fine."

* * *

**Fires and these Winchester boys... Hell of a coincidence, right? Well, if you're anything like me, you don't believe in coincidences, and in this case, you'd be right. What do I mean, you ask? Stay tuned to find out. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

_-EIGHT-_

"_You gonna stand there all day or you gonna help me?"_

_ Dean smiled, reaching over to take the tray out of her hands. She wouldn't let it go, and he rolled his eyes, like she was expecting him to, and leaned in. Their lips met and he smiled. She let go of the tray and he walked away. _

"_Hey, Jo?"_

_ She turned back to him, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulder, and he winked at her. She shook her head with a laugh, then started to push through the door to the kitchen. _

"_Oh, Dean."_

_ He stopped, turning back to her._

"_I'm taking Mom to that new doctor. You know, over in North Platte?"_

_ He nodded._

"_When?"  
"In a few minutes."  
"So I'm running this place by myself today?"_

_ She smiled._

"_Ash is here."  
"Ash is probably still drunk from last night."_

_ Jo laughed, propping a hand on her hip. Dean sighed._

"_Fine. We'll be fine."  
"I know. My baby works so hard."  
"Damn right."_

_ She laughed again, walking over to kiss him again. She left her hands on his face, her fingers drifting over his cheeks._

"_Maybe I'll just have to make up for that later."_

_ Dean smiled wide, making her laugh as he kissed her again. She gave him a wink and went into the kitchen. That day, __Dean worked his ass off, pouring drinks, sweeping up peanut shells, listening to Ash bitch on and on about nothing in particular, because he was a rambler when he was drunk. As the sun started to go down, Dean glanced up from the cash register._

"_Hey, Ash?"_

_ Ash stopped in the middle of his sentence about the volatile properties of some chemistry bullshit that Dean didn't even pretend to understand, turning bleary eyes to the bar. Dean shut the drawer and turned to face him, laying his hands on the bar, a towel slung over his shoulder. Ash blinked and Dean stifled a laugh._

"_Where did Jo and Ellen go?"_

_ Ash blinked again, looking over at the clock._

"_Hell, I think they … Yeah, they went to—over to North Platte earlier. Ellen had some sort of … appointment or something? Shit, I'm drunk."_

_ Dean shook his head, laughing under his breath. He looked back to the clock, feeling a weird feeling settle in his stomach._

"_It takes less than two hours to get to North Platte. Especially the way Jo drives."  
"Damn girl drives like a bat out of hell."_

_ Dean nodded his head as Ash tossed his empty can of PBR towards the trash can. And, miraculously, just like every time before, he sank it. Dean just shook his head. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dropping it on the bar when it started to ring. He blew out his breath, holding a hand over his heart._

"_Shit."_

_ He flipped open the phone, glancing at the number._

"_Damn, Ellen. You scared the hell out of me."  
"Dean Winchester?"_

_ A funny look crossed Dean's face, and Ash leaned back on his barstool._

"_Uh, yeah. Yeah, this is Dean Winchester. Who is this?"  
"Mr. Winchester, I'm Doctor Sarah Blake. I'm afraid I have some bad news. I hate to have to tell you this, but—"_

* * *

Dean's eyes flew open, his breathing coming fast and shallow. The monitor beside his bed was going crazy, alarms ringing out, and Sam was at the door, bellowing for a nurse. One came running in, glancing at the monitors before she began talking gently to Dean, trying to calm him down as she removed the oxygen tubes from his nose. She grabbed a mask, quickly hooking it up and slipping it over Dean's nose and mouth.

"Take in a deep breath. Come on, now. Easy. There we go. Take another breath … and let it out. Do that again. Everything's okay, Dean. There we go."

Dean did as the nurse asked, laying his head back on the pillows and closing his eyes as he tried to regulate his breathing. The machines stopped blaring, the harsh sound replaced by a steady beep. The nurse, a kind of heavyset woman at least twice his age, gently ran her hands across his hair, in a calming, motherly way. Dean had been in the hospital for four days now, and had the nurses all wrapped around his little finger.

"You okay, honey?"

Dean nodded, not worrying about talking with the mask over his mouth.

"What happened?"

Dean opened his eyes, looking over to her with a smile.

"Bad dream."

She nodded, patting him gently on the shoulder as she turned to walk out of the room. Dean reached his good hand up, wrestling the mask off of his mouth.

"Hey, Donna?"

She turned back to him and he coughed.

"Do you think I might could …?"

She gave him a smile, cocking her head to the side.

"You feeling up to it?"

He nodded eagerly, and she let out a laugh.

"Let me call your doctor and I'll see, okay?"  
"Okay. Thanks, doll."

Donna's cheeks were flushed as she walked out of the room. Sam walked over to the bed, reaching and moving the mask back in place.

"Not a word, Dean."

Dean shut his mouth and Sam sat back in his chair. Dean settled back in the bed and with the adrenaline fading off, he was once again feeling some lingering effects of the painkillers he'd been given earlier. Sam let out a sigh.

"You want to talk about it?"

Dean looked over to his brother, who was stretched out in the chair, his long legs out as far as they could go, his hands folded over his stomach, his head leaned back and eyes closed. Dean swallowed as Sam opened an eye, looking over to him before lifting his head and looking Dean straight on.

"Hey—"  
"No, Sam. I don't want to talk about it."

Dean lay back, taking in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. Sam nodded, moving back to his position in the chair.

"It's something bad, isn't it?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut at Sam's murmured words. Dean rolled over on his side, wincing as pain shot through his back.

"Let it be, Sam. Please God, just let it be."

Sam had his eyes open, watching his brother. He had a feeling that something had happened, something to spur Dean to come to him, but he didn't know what. Now he figured it had something to do with someone named "Jo" and whatever he had been dreaming about. He kept whispering "Jo," over and over again, each repetition becoming more and more pain-filled. Sam let out a sigh, closing his eyes again, thinking maybe he could catch a few more minutes of sleep.

Nope.

His phone started vibrating in his pocket and he sighed as he fished for it, then pulled it out. Jess was texting him. There was still no change with Melinda. Jess knew, even if the doctors weren't saying it just yet, that Melinda had fallen into a coma. There was still a small window that she could wake up on her own, but the longer she stayed out, the more likely it was that she would never wake up again.

Dean asked every single day to go and see her, but the second night he was in the hospital, he'd developed a fever. One of the cuts on his back had started to look as though it may be getting infected, so the doctor had pumped Dean full of antibiotics. The doctors refused to risk Melinda getting anything else, so they told Dean that until he was fever-free for at least 24 hours, he wasn't to leave his room. It broke Sam's heart to see Dean resign himself to that, because that wasn't like the brother he knew. Or at least the brother he remembered.

The Dean he knew would have laughed in those doctor's faces while he climbed out of the bed that very first night. He would have smiled through the pain of ripping out his IV, oxygen tubes, whatever the hell else and held his middle finger in the air as he walked up to Melinda's room. And he wouldn't have left her side until he was damn good and ready.

But this Dean… This Dean had known sadness in a way that Sam didn't. Something was weighing on this Dean, something that Sam couldn't get out of him, wanted to help him with, but didn't know how.

Sam slid the phone back in his pocket, stretching out again, getting as comfortable as he could in that awful chair. He looked over to the bed, where Dean was still on his side, facing away from him. Sam let out a sigh as he laced his fingers together, resting them on his stomach again.

"I'm here, Dean."

Sam's voice was barely even a whisper, but it resounded in Dean's ears. Dean let out a breath as a tear slid from his eyes, and he pushed his face further into his pillow.

* * *

"Gin."  
"Goddamn it, Dean."

Dean smiled as Bobby tossed his cards down. Seventeen games under their belts and Bobby had won two of them. And Dean swore he'd only let Bobby win one. At their regular rate of fifty cents a game, something that had been established when Sam was still in diapers, Dean was already up nearly eight dollars, though he had given Bobby back the one dollar he'd earned. He hadn't, though, taken the advice Bobby had given him to take that dollar and shove it. Nurse Donna came walking in the room, a smile on her face.

"Mr. Singer, are you harassing my patient again?"

Bobby glanced behind him with a smile.

"No, ma'am. Son of a bitch keeps stealing my money."  
"Poker?"

Dean shook his head.

"Gin."

Donna smiled.

"He's been killing the night shift with poker. Almost conned one of the residents from pediatrics into a Blackjack tournament."  
"Hey, that cocky bastard is asking for it."

Donna laughed, then smiled at Dean.

"Guess what."

He laid his cards down, cracking his neck and his knuckles.

"What?"  
"Got the okay."

Dean's eyes flashed to the door, where Donna was bringing in a wheelchair.

"Your fever broke about 30 hours ago, and you've been clean ever since. I managed to get you an hour of visiting time, then it's back here to bed. Any inkling of any discomfort and you are to come back immediately. Understood?"

Dean nodded, and Bobby helped him from the bed to the chair. Dean hated it, but he was weak from lying in that bed all the damn day, only getting up to go to the bathroom. Not to mention the new knee brace the doctor insisted on, thanks to something they saw on the stupid MRI he'd suffered through.

He let out long, slow breaths, then smiled up at Donna. She wheeled him to the elevators and they rode up to the Intensive Care Unit. Sam met them at the elevators with Jessica. She bent and kissed Dean's cheek and while Sam took over pushing the wheelchair, Jess tried to warn Dean.

"Okay, so she's a little banged up still. Her face has a couple of fading bruises and cuts. Her arm is still in a heavy bandage, and she's got a cast around her ankle. It's pink."

Jess smiled, then sighed.

"She's got a tube down her throat to help her breathe, and she's hooked up to a ton of machines. But I know she'll be glad to see you."

Dean put on a smile as Sam stopped in front of room 1023. Dean took in a deep breath as Jess pushed open the door. Sam wheeled him in, and Dean moved to the front of his chair when the bed came into his view.

"Oh, shit. Mel."

He spoke quietly, under his breath, and Sam gently squeezed his shoulder. Jess walked over to the bed, a smile on her face.

"Melly, Dean's here. I know, it's about damn time, right?"

Jess looked over to Dean, her smile shaky, watery, and he smiled what he hoped was a convincing smile back at her. Sam wheeled him over to the bed and Dean just stared. Melinda's skin was an awful, almost gray color. Her beautiful blue eyes were closed, and there was an angry-looking purple bruise stretching out across her cheekbone, and a cut over one of her eyebrows. Her hair was spread across the pillow and her mouth was open, due to the tube stuck down her throat. Dean swallowed, and Jess walked over, patting him on the shoulder.

"I think we'll give you two a minute."  
"Yeah, Dean, we'll be right outside."

Dean nodded, and Sam and Jess left the room. He turned back to the bed, letting out a long breath.

"God, Mel. What … How …"

He shook his head, letting it fall. After a moment, he lifted it, tears in his eyes.

"You listen to me, all right? I have been through some shit. So have you, so you understand. I have lost more people than I should have, and so have you. So damn it, Mel, I am not going to lose you, too. We've known each other for less than a week, but you've already messed me up. So you need to just go ahead and wake up, because I'm not letting you go."

Dean reached over, hesitating for just a moment before taking her hand. It was cool and limp in his grasp and he closed his eyes. He lowered his head to rest on her bedrail, looking up to her sleeping face again, before shutting his eyes. He let out a shaky breath.

"I … I—I don't … I don't do this. Ever. Maybe I should, but I really don't see the point. The, uh … The only reason I'm doing it now is—is because of her."

Dean lifted his head, looking to Melinda's face.

"Please, God. Don't let her die. I … I can't do this again. Please don't take her from me. I—I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever You want. I'll …"

He swallowed hard.

"I'll walk away if I have to."

He was a little surprised at just how bad it hurt to say that. He looked up at the ceiling, letting out a laugh before looking back to Melinda's face. A tear slid down his cheek, but he smiled, slowly shaking his head.

"No. No, I won't. I'm not leaving her. I won't let her be alone again. Not … not again. Just … just let her live. Please, God, let her wake up."

He let go of her hand, covering his face with his hands, trying to get control of himself. He was breathing hard, his eyes squeezed shut, willing himself not to cry, to be a man, a soldier like his dad had taught him. He let out a sigh, then froze as he felt a soft pressure on his head. After a moment, he felt it again. Almost like … like a hand running across his hair.

"Mel?"

He lifted his head from the bed, looking up to see sleepy blue eyes staring back at him.

"Oh my God. Mel, can you hear me?"

She nodded ever so slightly and Dean let out a laugh.

"You're awake. You're awake. Are you—are you hurting?"

Her hand shook as she slowly lifted it to her throat. Dean nodded.

"You've got a tube down your throat to help you breathe. Mel, do you know who I am?"

He laughed as he felt the punch, as gentle as a butterfly's wing, against his arm. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Let me get a doctor."

He started to try and wheel himself out, thinking it probably wouldn't be the best idea one-handed, when Melinda grabbed his hand. He turned to look at her, saw the look in her eyes, and he smiled.

"I'm not leaving you, Mel. Not again. Just hang on."

Dean turned his face towards the door as he pressed the call button on Melinda's bed.

"Sam! Sam, get in here!"

* * *

Jess had an iron grip on Melinda's hand, and Dean held her other one. Sam sat behind Jess, in the same chair, running his hands through her hair.

"So how long was I out?"

Melinda's voice sounded as though she had swallowed a parking lot worth of gravel. At least they had removed the tube from her throat. She had oxygen in her nose now, because her lungs still didn't sound clean. Jess smiled, squeezing her hand.

"Four days. Mom and Dad are here, but they've been up for two days straight and I just sent them to a hotel."

Melinda nodded, lying back against the pillows. She was so tired, and she had absolutely no reason to be, if she'd slept for four days. She shook her head.

"I don't really understand. I don't remember what happened."  
"Nothing at all?"

Melinda looked over to Sam, shaking her head.

"I don't think so."

Jess sighed, pushing a hand through her curly blonde hair.

"The apartment caught fire. Since we're on the second floor, they were thinking that the people under us maybe left their stove on? They're still investigating."

Melinda nodded, and Dean leaned in closer.

"We woke up, and I burnt my hand on the doorknob."

Dean held up his gauze-wrapped hand, what Jess still referred to as his "paw," and Jess smiled.

"I busted the window, and we jumped out. That's when the glass got stuck in your arm, and I'm pretty sure that's how you got this."

He laid his hand against the bruise on her cheek.

"And this."

He let his thumb follow the cut over her eyebrow, and her eyes drifted shut.

"That's also how you got your pretty pink cast."

Melinda smiled, opening her eyes to look at Dean again. Jess squeezed her hand again, and Melinda turned to look at her.

"When you got here, you had already lost a lot of blood. They couldn't stop the bleeding, and they took you in for surgery. Everything seemed to be fine, but …"

Jess shook her head, and Sam sighed, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"You had some sort of reaction to something, and they still aren't sure what exactly. But, uh… Your heart stopped, you weren't breathing. They brought you back, but you didn't wake up. You scared us pretty bad, Mel."

She lay back, letting out a breath. She felt Dean's thumb across the back of her hand, and it reassured her. It was comforting, the way he kept touching her, even his presence. She looked over to him.

"What about you? Are you okay?"

He smiled.

"Never better."

Melinda smiled, closing her eyes for just a moment before she looked at him again. He sighed.

"I burned my hand on the doorknob, because it was melting when I got there."

He held his paw up again, and Melinda nodded.

"I landed wrong on my knee, which is why I have this damn thing on."

Melinda bit her lip, trying to hide her smile, but it came through anyway.

"And when I was trying to carry you away, a window blew and rained glass down, most of which embedded into my back."  
"And let's not forget the smoke inhalation everyone had. Has."

Sam and Dean nodded at Jess, and Dean turned his head into his elbow as he coughed. He'd been without oxygen for nearly two hours, and Sam let out a sigh.

"Dean, we need to get you back to your room."  
"No."  
"Come on. Don't be a dick about this."  
"Sam, fuck off."

Melinda laughed, while Jess sighed.

"Dean, you need to be on oxygen. Your lungs were terrible."  
"Then hook me up. I'm not going anywhere."  
"Dean…"  
"Look, I've seen it on TV all the time. Put us in one of those double rooms. A two-seater, you know?"

Melinda turned to Jess and nodded.

"Yeah, do that."  
"Honey, you just woke up from a coma. We're sticking with ICU tonight."  
"Oh, come on, Jessie. Please?"

Jess sighed as Melinda blinked those baby blues at her. She went to open her mouth and Sam stood up.

"I'll go ask the nurse."  
"Sam… Wait for me."

Jess followed him out of the room and Melinda let out a breath, groaning quietly. Dean let out a broken sigh beside her.

"You okay?"

She looked over to him.

"Are you?"

He smiled.

"Not really."  
"Yeah, me either. My head is pounding."  
"Yeah, my chest aches like a mother."

She nodded.

"I can feel my heartbeat in my foot. Every beat is a throb."  
"My knee throbs every time I move."

Melinda looked over to him and smiled.

"Well, aren't we just a pair?"

He laughed, trailing off into a groan as he coughed again. When he had caught his breath as best he could, he looked over to see her looking back at him. She smiled, and he couldn't help but smile back. He moved closer to the bed, resting his head on the rail, and Melinda rolled over, where her forehead was touching his. She murmured quietly.

"Something's changed, hasn't it?"

Dean smiled, letting his eyes close.

"I think so."

She nodded.

"You okay with it?"

He smiled again.

"Yeah. You?"

She smiled, letting her eyes close.

"Yeah."

After a moment, Melinda let out a sigh.

"You're falling asleep, aren't you?"

Dean grunted.

"So are you."  
"At least sit back. That's got to be uncomfortable."  
"Nah, I'm good right here."

Melinda smiled, yawning.

"I just don't want to hear you bitching about how bad your back hurts later."  
"It hurts right now. Want to hear me bitch now?"

She let out a laugh.

"Shut up and go to sleep, Winchester."  
"You too, Moore."

Melinda felt Dean's hand come to lay on her bed, moving around, and she moved her hand to lace her fingers with his. She heard his sigh, felt his fingers grip hers, and Dean was the last thought she had before she fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated! I'm going to try to do better. Let me know what you think about this one!**

* * *

_-NINE-_

Ten days after she was first put in the hospital, Melinda was released. Dean was let out four days earlier, after spending just five days in the hospital. He had to go through physical therapy for his knee, something he bitched about every single second he possibly could. But when Melinda had to do the same thing for her ankle, he stopped. She'd rub the medicated cream into the cuts on his back every night, and he spent most of his time lounging around with her, being quiet, watching TV and movies.

Three weeks after they'd gotten released from the hospital, when he began hobbling around without the damn cane the doctor insisted he use, Dean found an apartment. It was a small studio, right above a bar that was desperately searching for a bartender. He didn't think he could do it, had convinced himself to just let it slide, and somehow found himself talking to the owner, an older woman who had no idea what she was doing, something she kept repeating to Dean. Her husband had run the bar, and when he'd died three months earlier, all of it fell in her lap. Dean wanted to tell her he was sorry, he wished he could help, maybe some other time. But he found himself reaching across the bar, taking her hand, telling her it would all be all right. And that was how he'd ended up with a job and a place to live, like a—and he shuddered to say it—a normal person.

Jess and Melinda's parents found another two-bedroom for them, a little further away from campus, but a little nicer than their old one. They got through finals in December, sort of skipping over Thanksgiving, even though they all agreed they had lots to be thankful for. Christmas came, and surprisingly, both Dean and Sam got a voicemail from their father. It had been nearly four years since Sam spoke to John, and the last words they exchanged weren't exactly warm and fuzzy. Neither was the voicemail, but it warmed Sam's heart to hear the old man's gruff voice.

"_Sam, it's your dad. I just … I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. I know your brother's out there with you, so… Take care of him. Goodbye, Sam."_

Short and to the point, which was John Winchester's style. Why use a hundred words when ten will do? Dean's message was a little longer, and put an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind.

"_Dean, it's me. I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry for that. There's something … Well, that's not important. I know you're out with Sam, and I know you're taking care of him, the way you always have. That boy's lucky to have you, son. I … I'm lucky to have you. Merry Christmas, Dean."_

John wasn't the touchy-feely type, and he'd rather have the hell beat out of him than to share his feelings. The voicemail he left Dean was a longer conversation than the two of them had had since Sam left. Something was up, but Dean didn't know what it was. It worried him, but he buried it, the way he always had when it came to his father, putting on a smile for everyone else.

* * *

January was when things started to change.

One dark, windy night, Dean was walking around his apartment, his knee aching due to the incoming storm. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, from a bottle of the good stuff Bobby had sent him for Christmas. It was cold, especially for California, and when the rain started to fall, the temperature dropped even more. As the lights in the apartment flickered, Dean let out a sigh, walking to the window to see if any other lights on the street were blinking. What he saw made him set down his glass, walk down through the empty bar—it was a school night and even Wade, who drank till last call every time the doors were open, had cleared out early, because of the storm—and out into the cold and the biting rain.

"Mel, what the hell are you doing? It's freezing out here."

She just stood in front of him, her entire body shaking, completely drenched, her hair hanging in long blonde ropes around her face. Her lips were almost blue, and Dean had to blink hard to see her, due to the force of the rain. When lightning lit up the sky, followed almost immediately by a deafening clap of thunder, Dean put his hands on her shoulders.

"Mel, come on inside."

She didn't move, didn't say a word. That was when Dean noticed she was crying.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Lightning flashed again, and Dean looked up, flinching back at the crack of the thunder, mixed in with the roaring rain. He sighed, moving to take Melinda in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, curling around him, and he got them inside. They were both shivering when they got to the apartment, and Dean went straight to the bathroom, turning the hot water on full blast, filling the room up with steam as he knelt before Melinda.

"Hey. You're worrying me, kid."  
"I'm sorry."

Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. Dean sighed, getting some feeling back in his fingers as he reached over, turning the hot water back and evening it out with some cold, filling up the bathtub.

"What happened?"

He spoke softly, looking back to Melinda, who shut her eyes and shook her head, as tears slid down her cheek. Dean sighed again, standing up to pull his soaked t-shirt off, shuddering when the icy material was gone from his skin. He knelt in front of Melinda again, taking hold of the bottom of her shirt and looking into her eyes. She let out a breath and Dean gently pulled the shirt off. Melinda wrapped her arms around her stomach, curling in on herself.

"Mel. Come on. Get in the tub with me. It will warm you up."

After a moment, she stood up, both of them silently undressing. Dean climbed in the tub, letting out a breath as he sank into the warm water. Melinda stepped in, settling in front of him, and he sat up, as she went under the water. Just when he was starting to get nervous, reaching out for her, she sat up again, gasping and coughing, pushing her hair out of her face. Dean reached out, laying a hand on her cheek.

"Talk to me. Mel, please."

She let out a sigh, moving to rest against him, his wide chest at her back, his arms around her as she rested her head back against his shoulder. He lifted one hand to play with her wet hair and she moved, putting her nose and forehead in his neck. She spoke softly, her breath ghosting across his skin just under his ear.

"Jess and I … had a fight. I told her I didn't want to go to school anymore, and she blew up. We said some horrible things to each other and I couldn't stay there anymore, and I just … I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry—"  
"Don't. Don't ever apologize to me. I …"

He let his sentence trail off, not entirely sure what he wanted to say there. Melinda didn't seem to mind, though, as she just moved closer to him. Dean moved his hand to brush through the hair by her face.

"You always have a place with me, Mel. Always."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she turned her face further into him, and he sighed when he felt her tears against his neck. They got out of the tub and he bundled her into a sweatshirt that was too big for her and flannel pants that were twice her size before wrapping her in a blanket, settling another over her on the couch. He was also wearing a sweatshirt and flannel pants, but his fit. He made hot chocolate for them, trying not to feel like he was Martha fucking Stewart, and walked back to the couch. He sat on the opposite end from her, reaching under the blankets to take hold of her feet, gently rubbing and massaging them. Melinda smiled as she sipped her cocoa.

"That's nice."

Dean winked at her, looking up as the lights flickered again, following an impressive crash of thunder. He shook his head, meeting her eyes.

"Ten bucks says lights go out within the hour."

Melinda smiled.

"You got yourself a bet."

She leaned back, snuggling under the blankets as Dean smiled, still kneading her feet. They finished their cocoa, tried to watch some TV. All that would come in was snow, and they ended up listening to an old Led Zeppelin record on the record player she, Sam, and Jess had all gone together and gotten Dean for Christmas. He'd lit up like their little Christmas tree, nearly driving all of them crazy as he went through the albums he'd collected over the years, and the ones he'd "inherited" from John.

Melinda yawned, leaning against the couch as _Travelling Riverside Blues_ played through the apartment. Dean glanced at his phone and Melinda sat up smiling.

"What time is it?"  
"2:07."  
"You owe me ten bucks."

Dean laughed, cursing under his breath. The lights flickered again, this time shutting off.

"Well, that's just about right. Like this couldn't have come eight minutes earlier?"

Melinda let out a laugh, but it wasn't the sound he was used to. Dean reached out, taking hold of her hand, trying to ignore the gentle tremble.

"Hey. Everything's okay. I'm right here."

He was sure she was nodding, even though he couldn't see her. He'd learned, in the few months he'd been around her, that Melinda didn't like the dark. She wasn't afraid, really; darkness just made her very uneasy.

"I'm going to get up and find some candles, maybe a flashlight, okay?"

When he didn't hear a response, Dean smiled.

"I can't see you nod, babe."  
"Oh, sorry."

He laughed quietly.

"Will you be okay for a few minutes or do you want to come with me?"  
"I really don't feel like getting out of this warm cocoon."

Dean laughed, patting her feet.

"All right. Give me five minutes."

He wasn't always the best judge of time, but twelve minutes later, Melinda was holding a flashlight while Dean lit the candles he'd found and brought into the living room.

"I'm kind of glad you and Jess pestered me into letting you decorate. God knows I wouldn't have picked any candles if I'd done it."  
"You wouldn't have picked any decorations, either. This place would be boring and dull, if it wasn't for us."  
"Go ahead, pat yourself on the back. I don't mind."

Melinda laughed, and Dean blew out the last match.

"There."

He leaned back on the couch, looking at his handiwork. Melinda smiled, nudging him with her toes until he looked over to her.

"This is kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Dean smiled, hanging his head. He and Melinda were incredibly close now. Many times through the Christmas season, someone would find them kissing under the mistletoe. But they hadn't slept together again since before the fire. Every time Dean would feel like they were moving forward in a relationship, Melinda would find some way to step back. They weren't dating, weren't officially a couple, but neither one of them was seeing anyone else. Dean looked over at her before reaching and moving the blankets around.

"Yeah, I think you're right."  
"I usually am."

He laughed, pushing the last blanket aside and reaching in, taking Melinda in his arms.

"Shut up."  
"You shut up. And kiss me."

Dean laughed again, and Melinda smiled, but he did just as she asked. Her hands wrapped loosely around his neck, brushing through his short hair. Dean's hands were at her back, gently rubbing up and down. Their lips moved together gently, and Melinda let out a sigh. Dean smiled as he kissed from her mouth, down to her jaw, skimming over her neck before going back to her mouth, loving the way her hand tightened in his hair when he hit the spot just under her chin. He sat back as she sank further down into the couch, and he smiled, going to move on top of her, when his phone rang. Melinda jumped, laying a hand over her heart.

"Jesus, what time is it?"

When she said those words, Dean's heart leapt to his throat. It was late, and phone calls at an hour like this were never good. Fleeting thoughts of _Dad _and _Bobby_ ran through Dean's mind, but there was one that caught on and wouldn't let go.

_ Sam._

"Damn it, Dean, answer the phone!"

He flinched at Melinda's tone, harsher than she wanted, but the only thing that would get through to him. He reached for the phone, spoke in a shaky voice.

"He—hello?"  
"Dean."  
"Sammy?"

_Thank God._

"Sam, are you okay?"  
"What? Of course I am, why would—Oh. Oh shit, Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't even check to see what time it was. I'm fine, Dad's fine, I guess. Bobby, too."

Dean let out a sigh of relief, just then noticing the death grip he'd had on Melinda's hand. He loosened his grip, but she wouldn't let him go.

"You scared the shit out of me, Sam. Don't … don't do that again."  
"I'm sorry, man. I didn't even think."

Dean nodded, letting out another breath. Sam sighed, then spoke.

"Is she with you?"

Dean looked back, and Melinda rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, she's here."  
"Jess is worried sick about her."

Dean moved the phone away from his mouth.

"He says Jess is worried sick about you."  
"Good."

Melinda was just petty enough to say the word, but not to actually mean it. Dean smirked, not saying anything. Sam let out an exasperated sigh.

"Would you tell her to come back? Jess says they need to talk."  
"Well, I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Sammy."  
"It's really not your business, Dean."  
"Really not yours, either."

Sam sighed again, the sound grating on Dean's nerves.

"Dean, you don't know the whole story."  
"And you do? If I recall—and I'm pretty sure that I do—you weren't around during their little throwdown."  
"That's not the—"  
"Yeah, it kind of is. You're giving me a double standard, Sam, and you know how that makes me feel."  
"Well, you've done it to me my whole life, so there you go."

Dean stood up. All right. Sam was trying to cover up whatever he was pissed at Dean about, and Dean hadn't been in a good fight for a while. He just had to remember to monitor his words. Lord knew both of John Winchester's sons had inherited his tendency to speak before thinking.

"What's this really about, Sammy?"  
"It's _Sam_, Dean. And I'm just a little more invested in this than you are."  
"The fight between the sisters, you mean."  
"No, I mean—"

Sam let out a harsh breath. Dean could hear him walking, so Dean did the same, finding himself in the kitchen. After another harsh exhale, Sam spoke quietly.

"I mean that I've been here. This isn't the first time they've had this fight, but this is the first time it's been this bad."  
"So what are they fighting about? And don't give me any of that 'it's complicated' bullshit. I'm in this too, and you know it."

Sam sighed again, and Dean grit his teeth together.

"Jess brought up the fact that we're graduating in May. She's going to medical school, I'm hopefully starting law school, and Mel needs to decide what she's going to do, too. Jess is pushing for grad school, but Mel doesn't know if that's what she wants. Then she says that she doesn't even want to be in school now, and that's when Jess sort of lost it."

Dean held one of his hands out.

"That's what this is?"  
"Yeah."  
"That's stupid."

Sam was quiet for a minute, then let out a laugh.

"I told you, you wouldn't understand."  
"Oh, because I never bothered with college?"

Sam was quiet again, speaking low.

"I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth, Dean."  
"Oh, I wouldn't dare. Not that I'd know that many, what with my lousy GED and all. Couldn't even stick around to get a high school diploma, so why would I know anything about college or degrees, right?"  
"Shut up. Damn you, just shut up."

Dean let out a laugh, not noticing how he was pacing the kitchen or how Melinda was hovering in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around her to ward off the chill that was settling in her bones.

"Don't you tell me to shut up."  
"Then stop speaking out of your ass."

Dean shut his eyes, stopping and raising his head. Sam sighed.

"We've worked our asses off to get to where we are. Melinda knows that, and she's smarter than she thinks she is. She can do this, she can breeze through grad school, if she'd just give it a chance."  
"You can't tell her what to do, Sam."  
"I'm not trying to."  
"And you can't make the decision for her."  
"I'm not trying to. I just—"  
"You're not her dad, Sam."  
"Will you let me speak for one minute?"

Dean bit his lip. _Remember that fight? Remember Dad, how pissed he was, how broken he was the next day? Of course you remember. You had to pick up the pieces. Don't be John._ Dean cleared his throat.

"By all means."  
"Don't—fuck, Dean. You can't just breeze in here after three years and think you've got a say in this. You haven't been here for even three months yet. You don't know how it's been, you haven't been here."

Dean could hear Sam breathing, and when he'd calmed a bit, Dean spoke.

"Well. I'll try and keep my nose in my own business next time."

He heard a long sigh.

"Dean, come on."  
"Nah, what the hell do I know? I'll just stay out of it. Oh, and maybe you could help me by not calling me at three in the fucking morning just to bitch me out. That sound okay to you, Sam?"

It was quiet on the other end, and Dean blew out his breath.

"She always has a place here, and she can stay as long as she wants. Tell Jess she'll be home when she wants to be there."  
"Dean, wait."

But he didn't. He hung up the phone, before he said something he knew he'd regret, ignoring when it started to ring a few seconds later. He glanced up, saw Melinda standing in the doorway, silent tears rolling down her face.

"Don't cry."

She laughed, looking away as the tears continued to fall.

"I've … I've ruined everything."  
"Mel, don't."

Dean walked over, touching Melinda's shoulders. She shook her head.

"I fight with my sister, causing you to fight with your brother, not to mention your relationship is fragile as it is. You can't afford to fight with your brother right now."  
"Mel, the things he said … This little fight has been brewing for a while."

She shook her head again.

"I've messed everything up again, and I—"

Dean shut her up by pressing his mouth to hers. He held her face in his hands, and after a second, he moved back, just far enough to look in her eyes, keeping his hold on her.

"This isn't your fault."  
"It is. I break everything I touch, Dean. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

She wrenched herself out of his grasp, her heart breaking in her chest.

"Just let me grab my things and I'll go."

She dropped the blanket she had wrapped around her, instantly regretting it because of the sudden chill that had settled in her bones. She was so cold, and she didn't know if she'd ever be warm again. She was almost to the living room when she heard Dean's quiet question.

"Where?"

She stopped, turning back to face him.

"What?"

He looked at her, those green eyes boring into her own, and he spoke softly.

"Where will you go?"

She gave him a smile, though tears were shining in her eyes.

"I don't know."  
"Take the Impala."  
"What?"

He walked over, picking his keys up and holding them out to her, surprised his hand wasn't shaking. She stared at the keys, an astonished expression on her face.

"Dean."  
"I mean it. I can't just let you walk out of here, in the rain and the cold. Take the Impala. She'll keep you safe and warm. I'd feel better."  
"I can't take your Baby."

Dean gave her a sad smile.

"It's just a car, Mel."

It wasn't "just a car." It had never been "just a car." The Impala had been home as far back as Dean could remember. It had been a haven, familiarity, his sanctuary. It had been a bed when he was smaller, when he and Sam had slept in the backseat as John traipsed them across the country. It had been a hospital, more than once. It was the place where he'd stolen his first kiss, got to second base for the first time with that girl with the braces down in Ponchatoula, Louisiana. He'd lost his virginity to Kara Townsend in the backseat the night before John whisked them away from Albuquerque. The Impala was the one thing that had never left him, the one thing that had never turned their back on him, the only thing in the world he felt like he could truly rely on. He'd cried, laughed, loved, _lived_ in that damn car since he was four years old. She could never be "just a car" to him.

But faced with the possibility of losing Melinda, first thing he'd do is give her the one thing he'd always been able to count on. She'd be safe, warm. The Impala could turn to be home for her too, and that was comforting to Dean, even though it felt like his heart was getting ripped out of his chest. She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I can't take your car."  
"Then stay with me."

Her eyes flew open, looking over to him. God, he felt like he was in one of those dreams where he was naked in front of the entire world, all eyes on him. He tossed his keys back onto the little end table.

"I don't ask for much. At least, I try not to ask for much. But I'm asking you this."

She stayed where she was, fat tears rolling down her pretty face, and he stepped closer to her.

"Stay with me. You don't have to go to school if you don't want to. I—I'll give you a job down in the bar. Hell, you can have my job in the bar, if it'll make you stay."  
"I don't want to hurt you."

Dean forced a smile.

"I'll be all right. Winchesters have a special extra-thick skin."

She shook her head.

"I hurt every single person around me, Dean. Sooner or later, I'll hurt you, too."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Won't be the first time. Look, all I know is my life is better with you in it. You're beautiful and smart and kind. You make me laugh, and you like my car, my taste in music. You run me out of my goddamned mind in bed, kissing you is like heaven. I am going completely chick-flick here, Melinda, and you know how I feel about that."

She smiled, letting out a quiet laugh at that. He closed the gap between them, and because he just couldn't stand it any longer, he reached out, twirling the ends of her hair, wavy since she'd let it air dry after their bath.

"You don't have to decide anything right now. Just … Just come to bed with me. I'm not asking for anything and I'm not expecting anything. Just … just stay, Mel. Please."

She closed her eyes as his hand cupped her cheek, and after a moment, she opened them as she let out a sigh.

"I'm going to hurt you."  
"Like I said, won't be the first time."  
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."  
"Does that mean you'll stay?"

She sighed, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"I'll stay."

Dean let out a sigh of relief, moving to take her in his arms and hold her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of her own.

"Would you really have given me the Impala?"

Dean smiled, kissing her forehead.

"Yes, I would have. That way, I would at least know that you're safe. She'd keep you. She's done it for me as far back as I can remember."

Melinda blinked back her tears, turning her face in to Dean's shirt as she yawned.

"Let's go to bed."

She nodded, leaning into him as they walked down the hall to the bedroom. Melinda climbed in the right side, furthest away from the door, and Dean climbed in beside her, moving right up behind her to spoon her. Melinda let out a sigh, snuggling close to him. Thunder shook the apartment, and Dean tightened his grip on her. He sat up, brushing the hair back from her eyes.

"Are you warm enough?"  
"As long as you just keep holding me, I'll be fine."

Dean had felt helpless all night. There was no use in lying about it. He'd felt helpless when Melinda couldn't tell him what was wrong. He'd felt helpless when she told him about her fight with Jess. He'd felt helpless when his fight with Sam went where it did, and he'd felt helpless when she talked about leaving. But when she asked him to hold her, to keep her warm and safe, wrapped up in his arms?

That he could do.


	10. Chapter 10

**I am sooooo sorry it's been so long since I updated this! Please let me know if you're still reading it, because I'm kind of getting back on a roll with this one. To make up for keeping you in suspense for so long, here's a long chapter. And if you're lucky, you might get another chapter very soon! Reviews will make that happen for you, FYI.**

_-TEN-_

Dean was as good as his word. He gave Melinda a job at the bar, and she was surprisingly good at it. The patrons loved her, began bringing in more customers, and soon, the bar became the place to be. Sam and Jess had even come by a few times, but things were still frosty between the four of them.

Melinda didn't drop out of school. She and Dean had a heart-to-heart about it one night. He swore that he wouldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do, but he hated to think that all of the hard work she'd put into school would be going to waste. She continued to go to her classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, continued to ace them, continued to ignore Jess if they passed in the hallway.

When January was coming to an end, Melinda had a Tuesday night off from the bar, which she was spending curled up on the couch with her old, tattered copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. She was lost in the world of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, blinking when the ringing of her phone brought her back to reality. She smiled when she heard the ringtone, AC/DC's _Back in Black._

"Hello, Dean."  
"Hey, babe. Look, I can't find my wallet. Do you see it anywhere up there?"  
"Hang on."

Melinda unfolded herself from the couch and her warm blanket, setting the book aside. She held the phone to her ear as she glanced around the living room, hearing Dean hum _Smoke on the Water_ while he, she imagined, was checking and re-checking to make sure the bar was stocked. She smiled when she looked at the kitchen table.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"  
"You found it."  
"One ratty, ol' beat-up wallet. You need a new one, dude."  
"Yeah, whatever."

She could almost hear the smile on his face.

"Hey, you got any money in here?"

Melinda opened the wallet, Dean's laugh making her smile.

"So nosy."  
"Can't help it. And how boring are you? Two dollars?"  
"Times are hard, kid."

She smiled as she continued to snoop through the wallet, pulling out various cards and reading them.

"Nice Mastercard there, Mr. Aframian."

Dean let loose a laugh.

"Yeah, remind me to tell you about that some time."  
"You have a library card from Mt. Pleasant, Michigan?"  
"That was a long-ass summer, and Sammy was little."  
"Uh-huh. A likely story."

Dean laughed again, and Melinda's eyes went soft when she pulled out an old, weathered photo of a beautiful blonde woman holding a little boy. She ran her fingers over it gently, then slid it back into its hiding place. She flipped the middle partition over, letting out a loud burst of laughter. She could barely speak through the giggles.

"Oh … my … God!"  
"What?"  
"Your … your driver's license!"

Dean let out a groan as Melinda plopped into one of the kitchen chairs, tears rolling down her face.

"Oh, come on, Mel."  
"What happened? Were you drunk?"  
"No."  
"High?"  
"Mel! I was twenty-four, all right? I was trying to be cute."  
"Oh, you nailed it."  
"That face is called the Blue Steel. Makes panties drop around the country."

Melinda laughed again, and Dean smiled, partly because that's what he was aiming for, and partly because he just loved the sound. Melinda ran her fingers over the little square of his face as she smiled. She studied the rest of the license, her eyes constantly coming back to the top. She looked up, setting the wallet on the table as she stood, going to the refrigerator, to the little magnetized calendar. She let her fingers skim over it, eyes closing when she got to today's date. She heard a whistle in her ear and sighed.

"Earth to Mel. Come in, Mel."  
"Sorry. I, uh … I got distracted."  
"What, does the Blue Steel turn you on?"

She laughed again.

"Oh, you have no idea. Try it later and see what happens. Hey, do you mind if I borrow your baby for a little bit?"  
"Why, got a hot date?"  
"Yeah, with your two dollars and some ice cream."

Dean laughed, hard and loud.

"It's like 12 degrees outside."  
"It's California. It's never 12 degrees here."  
"Freak cold snap."

Melinda rolled her eyes, and Dean just smiled.

"So is that a yes?"  
"Yeah, it is. Just be careful with her. And grab a jacket. It really is cold out there."

Melinda smiled, feeling a warmth deep in her heart.

"I will. And your wallet is perfectly safe up here. Don't work too hard."

They ended the call, and Melinda let out a sigh. She walked to the bedroom, slipping into some jeans and a sweater, grabbing Dean's leather jacket on her way out the door.

* * *

Dean came walking into the apartment just after ten. He let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders.

"Mel? Baby, you here?"  
"Kitchen!"

He slipped his shoes off by the door, walking to the kitchen in his bare feet.

"I have had the night from Hell. There was a fight, which yours truly had to break up. The jukebox broke. Not to mention its restock night, which I declare will now be restock morning, because I just can't …"

His sentence trailed off as he stepped into the kitchen, where the lights were off. The only light in the room came from the candles atop a cake. A big "2" and a "7". Dean swallowed, then looked up at Melinda's smiling face.

"How—how did…?"  
"You left your wallet, and I'm nosy. It's in big bold print on your license."

Her voice went soft.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, looking back to the cake. He mumbled.

"It's not a big deal."  
"Oh, come on. It is a big deal. It's your birthday! Only happens once a year."

She tilted her head to the side when he didn't say anything, didn't take his eyes off of the cake. She stepped around the table, closer to him.

"I didn't know what kind you liked. I've always been a fan of yellow cakes with chocolate icing, and I knew you liked chocolate, so…"

She shrugged her shoulders and Dean nodded.

"No, it—it's great."

His voice was rough, and Melinda laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. What is it?"

Dean shook his head, and Melinda sighed.

"Don't give me that. I didn't mean to make you upset on your birthday. I just—"  
"No, it … it's not that. I, uh…"

He ran a hand over his mouth, still looking at the cake. He cleared his throat.

"The last time I had a cake was when I turned four. My mom made it for me, like she did every year. A, uh … a yellow cake with chocolate icing, and she'd laugh when I got it all over my face."

He turned to Melinda with a sad smile that tugged at her heart.

"She made me a cake for my birthday in January, and she died in November."

Melinda covered her lips with her hand. He kept smiling that sad smile as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Mom always made a big deal over my birthdays. Big parties, a homemade cake. When she was gone …"

He shook his head.

"I always tried to make a big deal out of Sam's birthdays, and—"  
"No one made a big deal out of yours."

He shrugged, meeting Melinda's eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she moved to wrap him in her arms. He let out a long sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. He turned his head to smell her hair and she looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop crying. After a minute, when she had composed herself, she pulled back and gave him a smile.

"You need to make a wish and blow out your candles."

Dean smiled and nodded, turning to the table as Melinda wiped her face. He blew out the candles, plunging the kitchen into darkness, and Melinda laughed.

"Well, good job."

She let out a quiet gasp as she suddenly felt the wall at her back, hands instinctively going out to wrap around Dean's arms. She would have said something, but his mouth found hers then. Her hands drifted from his arms to his hair, fingers sliding through the short strands, cupping the back of his head. He kissed her cheek, and she lifted her head to give him access to her jaw, and she gasped again when he hit a spot under her chin.

"I, uh… I was going to—ha—to fix you supper."  
"You okay with eating later?"

She felt him suck on the skin where her neck and shoulder met and Melinda tightened her grip in his hair.

"It'll keep. It might even keep until tomorrow."

Dean smiled as he found her mouth again, and she felt his hands drift down to her thighs.

"Wrap your legs around me."

Melinda nodded, doing what he asked as he lifted her up. She moaned as he carried her to the bedroom, hands still tangled in his hair as she panted, until he laid her on the bed. Her sweatpants were the first thing to go, and she shivered. Dean reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head, shaking out his shoulders. He looked down at the bed, a smile appearing when Melinda's shirt hit him in the face. He took hold of the shirt, dropping it to the floor. She leaned back on the bed, sitting at the edge, and Dean smiled as he walked over to her. He slid his hand to her cheek and she kissed his palm, before he slid his hand to her hair, removing the band that held her hair in a ponytail. She shook her head as her honey-colored hair bounced around. Dean moved closer to her, pushing both of his hands into her hair, and she gasped.

"Dean."  
"I love your hair. It's so soft, so beautiful. You're so beautiful."

His fingers were massaging her scalp, and she was making these amazing noises of pleasure. He bent to press his mouth to hers, feeling her hands slide up his back. He kept kissing her, kept his hands in her hair, and finally pressed his forehead against hers with a sharp gasp as he felt her slide his belt loose, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, sliding her hand inside.

"G—_god, _Mel."  
"Happy birthday, baby."

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulled him closer to the bed, soaking in his groan as she used her mouth on him. He grit his teeth, because it felt _so good_, but it had been too long since they'd done this. He'd never make it to the good part if she kept on.

"Mel. Baby, you—oh god."

The breath was burning in his lungs, tremors rolling up and down his spine.

"Mel, you gotta stop. You got to."

He reached down, touching her cheek, and she looked up at him, moving back with a sly smile on her face. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, coming up on her knees on the bed.

"It's your birthday. You're running this thing."

Yeah, right. Neither one of them really believed that, especially when she reached around, undoing her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Dean growled low in his throat and she laughed as he pretty much pounced on her, both of them moving up the bed to lie on the pillows. Dean slid his hand right into her panties, making her gasp and reach up to clutch his arm, biting his shoulder. He grinned.

"Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

Melinda whimpered, and Dean hooked his fingers in her panties, sliding them off, tossing one of her legs over his shoulder. And then, god, his _mouth_. The things he could do. Melinda was writhing on the bed, panting and moaning his name, and then, words were gone. She had no idea of anything except the fireball of pleasure that was erupting throughout her body. She vaguely saw Dean sitting up, shakily sliding a condom on, and then he was there.

Her eyes slid shut, her thighs tightening around his hips to hold him there. He was breathing hard, eyes clamped shut, lips trembling. Melinda blinked, saw him suck his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth clamping down on it and she moaned. He blinked his eyes open, looking down at her. She nodded as she snaked a hand up, wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her. He smiled, going to her as he rolled his hips. She lifted hers to meet him, both of them biting back a groan. His back arched as his head fell back, and Melinda followed him, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him.

"Stay with me, Dean."

She felt his strong arm come around her, holding her close as he switched their positions. She was in his lap now, looking down at him, and he smiled at her, giving her a wink.

Later, she'll look back and say that was the moment that did it. Just a simple little wink, but it ignited a fire inside of her. Or it made her realize that the fire had been burning for a while, ever since one night at a bar, when a stranger challenged her to a game of pool. He won the game and her heart.

No.

_No._

She gasped. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to fall in—No. She reached and pushed his chest with both of her hands. He obliged her, going to rest back on the pillows. She braced herself on his chest, rolling her hips, biting back moans until she couldn't anymore because it just felt _so damn good_. She rode him almost brutally. Not painfully, or punishing, just … She didn't know what it meant. Neither did he, but he'd felt the shift. She watched him as he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, setting his jaw, making the tendons stand out in his neck. She bent down and kissed one, before gently sinking her teeth into it. Dean groaned, shaking his head.

"Mel. Damn it, Mel, I'm close. So– God."

She nodded, moving two more times before she threw her head back, her back arching as a warmth spread throughout her body. It was intense and deep, and she forgot to breathe for a minute, until her lungs were burning with the need for air. She gasped, collapsing down onto Dean's chest, and he caught her easily, his trembling arms coming around her as his shaky hands rubbed circles into her back. Her eyes stayed open as her head rested on his shoulder, breath heaving into and out of her lungs, the same way as the man she was resting on.

* * *

Dean lay in the bed staring up at the ceiling. Melinda was right beside him, curled up on her side, sleeping. She was holding onto his arm, and he had his other one behind his head. He should be sleeping. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep, but … He just couldn't. His mind was racing.

He didn't know exactly when it had happened. He'd never meant for it to happen, and damn if it hadn't anyway. He was beating himself up over it, wishing he had a shot of—no, a glass of—hell, make it the whole damn _bottle_ of something he'd regret in the morning. He didn't think it would really matter, though. As soon as the hangover would wear off, he'd be right back where he was at this very moment.

Head over heels in love.

Damn it all to hell.

He hated himself. He was so caught up in a chick-flick moment that he could barely refrain from grabbing the gun in his bedside table—thanks for that paranoia, Dad—and putting himself out of his misery. He ran his hand over his face and let out a sigh. An answering sigh came from beside him, and a smile crossed his face. He rolled onto his side to look at her again, then came back to rest on his back.

It wasn't so bad. Was it? Okay, sure. So he hadn't been able to hold down a normal relationship since … well, ever. And who could define "normal," anyway? Melinda had said it once already: he had a gypsy soul. Dean Winchester was not one to stay in one place very long. So if he had a string of hearts behind him, who could blame him? It gets awful lonely out there on the road.

It hadn't just been one night stands, though. He'd had a couple of meaningful times. There'd been Cassie, the first girl he ever loved. And Lisa, who'd been burned into his brain since that weekend they spent together when he was nineteen. And of course, there was Jo.

Jo. He hadn't thought about her in a while. He felt bad for it, all of a sudden. He rolled again, looking down at Melinda and sighed. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, sliding his arm out from under her. He pulled the covers closer around her, then climbed out of bed, sliding a pair of flannel pajama pants on. He walked to the kitchen, smiling when he saw the cake on the table, and went about cutting himself a slice.

He leaned against the counter, staring out the little window at the moon, high up in the sky. He took a bite of cake and let his mind drift back.

* * *

"_Hey, you."_

_ Dean turned from the window to see Jo smiling at him. She was wearing his button-down, and it hung to just above her knees. He gave her a smile and she walked over to him. She came and stood right in front of him, all up in his personal space, and turned to look out the window, leaning back into his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. _

"_I woke up and you weren't there."_

_ Dean smiled._

"_Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to wake you."_

_ Jo ran her hand along his arm as she smiled._

"_I like to look at the moon."_

_ Dean laughed quietly, pulling her closer to him._

"_I like to look at you."_

_ Jo grinned, turning around in his arms and wrapping hers around him and pulling him to her. She kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair. Dean let his forehead rest against hers, and Jo sighed. _

"_What is it, babe?"_

_ She sighed again, but she answered him._

"_You made it crystal clear that you don't stick around. But you've been here for almost two months, Dean. I … I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."_

_ He nodded, giving her a smile._

"_Yeah, about that. I've been thinking …"  
"Oh, do you have a headache?"_

_ Dean gently pinched her hip and she giggled. _

"_I think … I mean, how would you feel … If I stayed?"_

_ Jo looked up, her dark brown eyes locking with his green ones. _

"_Really?"_

_ Dean grinned, moving his hands up to cup her face as he leaned in to kiss her again._

* * *

He squeezed his eyes shut at the lance of pain that shot through his heart, the way it always did when he thought of Jo. Even after nearly a year, it hurt like it had just happened yesterday. He reached a hand up, absently rubbing over his heart as he looked down at the plate in his hand, swallowing hard as another memory filled his brain.

* * *

"_You know what?"_

_ Dean smiled as he pushed a rag across the bar._

"_What, Blondie?"_

_ Jo turned from sweeping up the floor to stick her tongue out at him. Dean laughed, and she had a smile on her face._

"_I was just thinking—"  
"Ooh, don't hurt yourself."_

_ He ducked as he laughed, barely missing the beer-soaked rag she flung at his head. He held up his hands in surrender, and she was useless when he gave her that smile. She shook her head, going back to sweeping._

"_Anyway, I was just thinking that Mom's birthday is coming up next week."_

_ Dean nodded, and Jo turned to face him, propping a hand on her hip._

"_When's your birthday?"_

_ Dean stopped and looked up at her. A smile spread across her face._

"_I mean, you've been here for nearly a year, Dean. We live together, sleep together. You know almost everything about me, and I don't even know when your birthday is."_

_ He had a small smile on his face as he looked down at the bar. Jo walked over, hopping up on the barstool in front of him. After a moment, Dean looked up, meeting her dark eyes. _

"_January 24, 1979."  
"Grandpa."  
"Hey!"_

_ Jo just laughed. He was only six years older than her, but she felt the need to rub it in. _

"_So you're a … what's January? Capricorn?"  
"Aquarius. What are you?"  
"Aries."  
"I don't know what that means."_

_ Jo laughed, shaking her head._

"_Neither do I. I don't believe in that stuff. Just makes me laugh when I read it."_

_ Dean smiled at her and nodded. Jo sighed, hopping off of the barstool._

"_Well, since I missed your birthday…"_

_ She walked over to the jukebox, pressing buttons. REO Speedwagon's _Can't Fight This Feeling _came through the speakers and Dean smiled. That was unofficially "their" song. She'd played it the first time he came in the Roadhouse, and ever since then, the first few notes made both of them smile. He'd made sure to have it playing the first time he made love to her._

_ He stepped out from behind the bar, leaving his rag where it was. He stepped past the pool table, where Ash was currently passed out. He held his thumb out at Ash and Jo smiled._

"_This won't wake him up?"  
"Armageddon wouldn't wake Ash up once he got to sleep."_

_ Dean smiled, stepping over to her and taking her in his arms. She rested against his chest, letting her hands come up to gently brush through his hair, across the stubble on his cheeks. _

"_I love you, Dean."_

_ He smiled, pulling her closer to him, holding her just a little bit tighter._

"_I love you too, Jo."_

_ That was the last night he got to spend with her._

* * *

Damn it, he had to stop. He was holding onto the countertops, breathing hard. Why was this happening? Why couldn't he stop thinking about Jo? She was gone. That was it. She'd counted on him and he let her down, like he did everyone else in his life.

Oh. Maybe that was why. Maybe he couldn't stop thinking about Jo because he'd just realized he'd fallen in love with Melinda. After everything with Jo, he'd sworn to himself, to God, to anyone who was listening, that he'd never fall in love again. It hurt too much.

And yet here he was.

Damn it all to hell.

"Dean?"

He glanced to the kitchen doorway, smiling when he saw Melinda in his shirt, rubbing her sleepy eyes, her honey blonde hair tousled from his hands.

"Hey, babe."

She walked over to him, putting her arms around him, her face in his bare chest. He smiled, letting his arms come around her, one hand at the back of her head, playing in her hair. They stood like that for a minute, until she shifted, laying her ear over his heart.

"I woke up and you weren't there."  
"I'm right here, babe."

She lifted her chin, looking him in the eyes, and his heart caught in his throat. Yeah, everything he'd been trying to convince himself of earlier? How he wasn't in love with her, how he couldn't be?

Utter bullshit. He was so far gone.

He bent his head, gently pressing his lips to hers. Melinda was all warm and soft, and when he ended the kiss, she pulled back with a smile on her face.

"What?"  
"You taste like chocolate icing."

Dean smiled.

"Snuck a piece of cake while you were asleep."

She looked down at his plate and smiled, reaching out and running her finger through the icing, sliding that finger in her mouth. Dean swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Melinda sucked the icing off of her finger, then leaned in closer to him.

"Come back to bed with me. I'll even let you bring the cake."

She turned around and walked away, leaving Dean staring after her. After a moment, he came to his senses, shaking his head before taking a few steps out of the kitchen.

"Don't forget the cake!"

What was she, a psychic? He shook his head again as he turned around, grabbing the plate off the counter, hurrying back down the hall to their room. He wasn't entirely sure when it had become "their" room, but it was now. He sighed, trying to sort out his bearings when Melinda poked her head out of the door.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dean looked up at her and smiled.

"Fine."  
"Good. Come on, then."

She disappeared behind the door, and a second later, her arm appeared again, with his shirt dangling from her fingertips. He laughed as he walked inside, pushing the door shut behind him with his foot.

* * *

Dean sat in the corner booth of the coffee shop, a warm cup of coffee in his hands. He looked up when he heard the bell above the door ring, and in walked his giant of a baby brother. He fought and was able to keep the smile off of his face. Sam walked to the counter, putting in his order, and a few minutes later, Sam was sitting across from him, sipping something Dean could only guess was a coffee-less, girly drink. Finally, Sam broke the silence.

"All right. I can't just sit here in one of our infamous Winchester silent stand-offs. I didn't mean the things I said. I was upset. Seeing Jess upset makes me mad, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean took another sip of his coffee, then sighed.

"We both said things we didn't mean, Sammy. It's all right."

Sam nodded, staring at his coffee cup. This fight had been pretty much his fault. Dean hadn't had much to do with it, not taking the bait when Sam tried to get him to. But then again, it's always been that way. Whatever fight they had, Dean would give him a smile and say "it's all right, Sammy," and that was it. It was over and done, and they were the closest of brothers yet again. Sam let out a sigh, still staring at his cup.

"I feel like a jerk, Dean."  
"No, you're the bitch, remember?"

Sam smiled at that.

"I didn't talk to you yesterday. The text doesn't count."

Sam had texted Dean just before midnight, telling him happy birthday, asking to meet him at the coffee shop down the street from the old apartment today. And Sam was relieved when Dean replied, just a simple "ok." Dean looked down at his coffee cup, gently shrugged his shoulders.

"It's all right, Sammy."  
"No, it's not. I missed your birthday, because I was too much of an asshole to call you."

Sam swallowed when Dean didn't say anything.

"Guess no matter how much I tried to fight it, I am John Winchester's son."  
"Sam, come on."

Sam looked up, and Dean sighed.

"We were pissed at each other. It happens. Especially with us, you know? But you texted me. That counts."  
"Did Dad …?"

Sam let the question trail off, and Dean looked back to his coffee cup, shaking his head.

"He's busy, you know that."

Sam nodded, hating his dad just then. Dean worshiped the ground the man walked on, but the bastard couldn't be bothered to put the bottle down long enough to call his son on his birthday. Sam finished off his coffee, crushing the cup in his big hand. Dean saw it, couldn't help the smile that crossed his face.

"Easy there, Bruce. Wouldn't want to see you when you're angry."

Sam looked at his hand, closing his eyes as he laughed quietly. He looked back up, meeting Dean's eyes. After a second, Dean gave him a wink, and Sam rolled his eyes. There it was. They were back. Dean finished his coffee, pushing the cup to the end of the table.

"So what are we going to do to get the Moore sisters back together?"

Sam sighed.

"We're going to need more coffee for this."

* * *

Melinda stood outside the apartment, her jacket pulled around her. She sighed, reaching up again before letting her hand fall. She closed her eyes, finally knocking. She glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip, and she turned back around when the door opened. Dark eyes widened, and Jess' mouth dropped into a little "O."

"Mel."  
"Hey, Jess. Can … Can I come in?"

Jess blinked a few times, then took a step back.

"Of course. Always."

Melinda stepped inside, letting Jess close the door behind her. They stood in the hallway for a moment, before Jess thought to speak.

"I was just about to make some tea. Do you want some?"

Melinda looked over at her and smiled.

"I'd love some."

She followed Jess into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table as Jess filled the tea kettle with water, putting it on the stove. Melinda sighed.

"Jessie, we need to talk."

Jess nodded.

"Can I go first?"

Jess nodded again, coming to the table to sit across from her sister. Melinda took in a deep breath, then met Jess' eyes.

"I'm twenty-two years old, Jess. I know you want what's best for me, but what you think I need to do and what I want to do are two totally different things. I don't want to be a doctor. Or a lawyer. I'm sick of going to school. You can't force me into doing what you want, okay?"

Jess nodded, letting out a sigh.

"I know. You're right. I just … I worry about you. I want to know that you're taken care of, or that you can take care of yourself, and …"

Jess sighed again.

"I can't make you do what I want you to do, even though I know you could do it, and do it well. You've got to make your own decisions, and I've got to let you."

Melinda smiled, reaching a hand across the table. Jess smiled, laying her hand in her sisters'.

"I missed you, Jessie."  
"I missed you too, Mel."

They both stood up, Jess coming around the table to wrap Melinda in her arms. They hugged until the tea kettle whistled, Jess grabbing them some cups and tea bags, coming back to the table.

"So what's been going on?"

Melinda smiled.

"Well, I'm staying at Dean's."  
"I figured as much."

Melinda took a sip of her tea, making a face, accepting the honey Jess passed her way. Jess smiled, taking a sip of her tea. Melinda nodded when her tea was acceptable, looking back over to Jess.

"He gave me a job in the bar."  
"Really?"

Melinda nodded.

"Do you like it?"

Melinda smiled.

"I love it. I get amazing tips, sometimes hustle a little pool. And Dean's there, so I don't have to worry about anything."

Jess smiled, letting Melinda go on.

"I didn't drop out or anything. I still go to my classes. Still graduating in May."  
"That's great, Mel."

Jess reached over, taking Melinda's hand again. Melinda let out a sigh.

"What is it, little sister?"

Melinda looked down at her tea cup, then back up to Jess.

"I, uh … I don't want to hurt your feelings."

Jess shrank back into her chair, and Melinda sighed again.

"But I think … I think it might be better for us if I stay with Dean."  
"You don't want to come home?"

Melinda smiled.

"It's not that I don't want to come home. I just think it might help our relationship if we're not breathing down each other's necks every single day. This wasn't our first fight, Jess."

Jess snorted at that, a smile on her face.

"I love you so much, you know that, right?"

Jess nodded, and Melinda squeezed her hand.

"I hate fighting with you, and if we're constantly in each other's hair, the way we have been for, what, 14 years? We fight. I just think that maybe living apart for a while could help us."

Jess let out a sigh.

"Yeah, I … I think you're right. When did you get to be so smart?"  
"I've always been smart. Learned it from my big sister."

Jess laughed, going back around the table to hug Melinda.

"Dean's okay with you staying?"

A soft smile crossed Melinda's face.

"Yeah, he is."

Jess' eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. She put a smile on her face and nodded.

"Oh! Guess who called me today."

Melinda held her hands out and Jess smiled.

"Your favorite sweet-toothed ex- … whatever he was."  
"Gabe called you?"

Jess nodded, smiling.

"He's coming to town tonight, and he's got to see you. His words, not mine."

Melinda let her head fall back as she laughed.

"You know what I need? That purple dress you have."  
"Oh my God! Not that one with the—"  
"Yes!"

Jess threw her head back with a laugh.

"Come on, let's go see if we can dig it up."


	11. Chapter 11

_-ELEVEN-_

Sam walked into the apartment just before the sun went down.

"Jess? I'm home."  
"Just a second!"

He heard giggles from the bedroom, and he stopped.

"Jess, who's—"  
"Give us a second, Sam!"

He heard Melinda's voice, and he smiled. He nodded, turning to walk into the kitchen.

"Guess they made up."

He grabbed an apple out of the bowl, running it under some water before he took a bite. A few minutes later, half the apple gone, Jess came into the kitchen. A huge smile was on her face, and she walked right up to Sam and took hold of his shirt, pulling down until he bent enough for her to fit her mouth to his. Sam blinked when she let him go.

"What was that for?"

Jess shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

"Felt like it."

She turned to leave the room and Sam reached out, catching her and pulling her to him, her back against his chest. Jess let out a laugh as Sam wound his arms around her. He nosed through her hair until he could speak in her ear, his hot breath making her shiver.

"You can't just do that and walk away, you know."  
"Yeah, I can feel so."

They both laughed, and Jess leaned her head back where Sam could kiss her. He started to turn her around, to lift her onto the counter, but she gently shoved him back. His confused puppy eyes made her laugh.

"Mel's here, baby. We'll have to let her go before you lift me onto the counter and have your way with me."

Jess turned to walk away, and Sam smiled.

"But I will be able to have my way with you?"

Jess stopped at the door to the kitchen, holding onto the frame and bending over laughing. When she composed herself, she turned back to him, laying a hand on her hip.

"You remember your birthday last year?"

Sam nodded.

"Remember that thing we did? The one that made you start yelling things in Latin until your voice went out?"

Sam's eyes widened, and he nodded slowly. Jess gave him a smile.

"I might just let you do that again."

Sam turned his back to her, gripping hold of the counter and letting out a ragged breath. Jess just laughed as she walked back down the hall. A knock came at the door, and Sam shook his head.

"Sam, could you get that?"

He groaned, pressing a hand to the front of his jeans, trying to get the tightness there to ease. When it finally did, he went to the door, opening it and looking down.

"Shit."  
"Good to see you too, Sammy."

Sam turned back inside, yelling down the hall.

"Jess, what the hell is he doing here?"

Jess came running out of the bedroom, squealing and laughing as she ran to the shorter man, who smiled as he caught her in his arms.

"Gabriel, we've missed you!"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to Jess' cheek.

"Not as much as I've missed you, gorgeous."

Jess smiled at him, wiggling her eyebrows until he laughed, reaching in his pocket and handing her a lollipop.

"Watermelon?"

Gabriel held out both of his hands.

"What, is this my first day?"

Jess grinned as she unwrapped the sucker, popping it in her mouth. Sam stood behind her, rolling his eyes. Gabriel leaned around her, looking over at Sam.

"Sorry I don't have one for you, Sasquatch. They ran out of dick-flavored ones."

Jess burst into laughter, whirling around to grab Sam and gently push him into the living room. She came back shaking her head.

"Why do you two hate each other?"

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders.

"Just comes natural, I guess. Where's the other blonde one?"  
"Right here."

Jess stepped back, giving Gabriel his first view of Melinda. His eyes went wide, mouth dropping open, and Jess rolled the sucker on her tongue as she snapped a picture on her phone.

"Perfect. Exactly what we wanted. You may go."

Melinda smiled as she walked down the hall, tossing honey-colored curls over her shoulder. She made it to Gabriel, and he opened his arms, taking her into them and dipping her low, catching a kiss from her lips. Melinda laughed as he stood her back to her feet, giving her his arm as they walked out of the apartment, down to his car. Jess smiled from the door, shutting it before going to the living room. Sam was sprawled in his chair, long legs eating up half the floor. Jess took the sucker out of her mouth with an audible "pop." Sam looked over to her, eyes narrowed.

"Oh, don't give me that look."  
"That little bastard—"  
"I don't understand why you don't like him. What did he ever do to you?"  
"Are you seriously asking me that question?"

Jess sighed.

"Sam, it was what, two years ago? Baby, you need to let it go."  
"Jessica!"

She rolled her eyes, walking into the kitchen. Sure enough, just as she was expecting, Sam followed her.

"He had everyone in our theatre class thinking I was his boyfriend."  
"It was a joke."  
"Not to everyone in theatre 101!"

She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"Sam, he—"  
"Not to mention the half-naked pictures of me he put all through Camden Hall. And I didn't even live there!"  
"Gabe just likes to play pranks is all."

He blew out his breath, pushing his hands through his hair as Jess turned to him.

"Hey."

He turned to look at her, and she smiled.

"You should really be thanking him for all those half-naked pictures."  
"Jessica, I was in a towel, just coming out of the showers. And everyone—yes, I do mean _everyone_—saw the damn things."  
"Yeah, and it was one of those pictures that intrigued me."  
"I—Really?"

Jess smiled.

"Really. I saw one, piqued my interest over this mysterious—and holy hell, _ripped—_guy. Next thing I knew, I was staring at you from across the room at the Greek Life mixer."

Sam pursed his lips.

"Huh."  
"And the other thing?"

He looked down as she walked over to him, reaching up to take hold of his face, pulling him down to kiss him. And when the taste of watermelon lollipop was swirling through his mouth, she pulled back and smiled.

"No one thinks you're gay now. Especially me."

She gasped as Sam lifted her, setting her on the counter. She smiled at him, eyes dancing. She tucked her tongue in her cheek, batting her eyelashes at him.

"You gonna take me right here?"

Sam swallowed.

"Hell yeah, I am."

He leaned over and kissed her, swallowing her moan, pulling her tank top off and letting it fall to the floor.

* * *

Melinda swirled the olive around her martini, as Gabriel sucked down a pina colada. She leaned forward, and he smiled, shaking his head.

"You know what you're doing, baby, don't ya?"

Melinda laughed.

"This is our thing, Gabe. You dress up and look just dashing, and I dress to make you regret ever getting rid of me. And don't even try to pretend like you don't like it."  
"Touché."

He nodded, making her smile as he took another swig of his drink. He sat up, leaning forward to meet her.

"So tell me. How's life?"

Melinda smiled.

"It's good."  
"Classes going good?"

She nodded.

"Almost done, Gabe. I'm busting out in May."

He grinned.

"I'm so proud of you, babe."  
"Thanks. What about you? Made any more millions?"  
"Nah, just the ten."

He winked at her, sipping again. His first year at Stanford, in between classes, Gabriel started his own company. In his second year, it really took off. And now, Archangel Enterprises was a world-wide moneymaker. Gabriel smiled at her as he took a bite of the cherry that was perched on top of the dwindling mountain of whipped cream that sat atop his drink.

"Actually, that's a lie. We just made another deal, sure to bring in at least 100 mil."  
"Gabriel!"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"What can you do?"  
"Share some with us poor peasants, Prince John."

He laughed.

"All you've got to do is ask, Maid Marian, and I'll be your Robin Hood."  
"Yeah, 'til I catch you running off with Little John."

He laughed again, holding up his hands.

"One time. You do that one time, no one ever lets you forget it."

Melinda smiled, sipping her martini.

"Speaking of … How's that going? You got somebody?"

Gabriel smiled as he looked at his drink. He spoke gently, his eyes softening.

"There is this one guy. We met at this new cupcake place on Rodeo in Beverly Hills."  
"Tell me about him."

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders, and Melinda smiled. She reached across the table and took his hand. He glanced up at her and sighed.

"He's a writer. Writes these weird-ass books."  
"What are they called? I like weird things."

He laughed.

"It's a series of just ludicrous crap called _Supernatural_."  
"What? You ... You're kidding me, right? I love those books! Wait. Holy shit, Gabe, you've got something going on with Carver Edlund?"

Gabriel sighed.

"Chuck. His name is Chuck. Carver Edlund is his pen name."  
"Holy … The man is a genius. The stories are beautifully crafted, and so creative. Two brothers, traveling the country, killing monsters, ghosts, vampires? Not to mention the family dynamic, and oh my God, the _angst_!"  
"Seriously? Two weird-ass, insanely, damn near erotically co-dependent, got-to-be-something-else-going-on-there, 'hunter' _brothers_ who never get caught, always have an Internet connection, and never run out of gas in their car? That would never happen in real life."  
"Who cares about real life? I love those books. I'm pulling a friend card and saying you have to get me his autograph."

Gabe rolled his eyes, shaking his head. When he looked to Melinda again, and she had those beautiful blue eyes wide, her pretty pink bottom lip stuck out. She had something akin to Sam's puppy eyes going, and Gabe was a goner.

"All right, all right. I'll do it."

Melinda grinned, leaning across the table to press a smacking kiss to Gabriel's mouth. He laughed, running his hand over her curls, cupping her face.

"I have missed you, little Mel."

She smiled, reaching up and taking hold of his hand, then bringing it to her lips. Gabriel grinned at her.

"So what about you. Any lucky guys in your life?"

Melinda's cheeks went red, and Gabriel smiled.

"Oh, oh. Look at the blush she's got! What's his name?"

Melinda sighed.

"Don't freak out."  
"He's not gay, is he?"

Melinda laughed.

"No, honey. I got that out of my system with you."

Gabriel gave her a wink, and Melinda smiled. When she first got to Stanford, the fall semester after Gabriel started in the summer, they met and an instant attraction lit up. But Gabriel was still coming to terms with his sexuality, and dated Melinda as a kind of cover-up. He broke down one night and told her that he was gay, and instead of beating the hell out of him—which she totally could have done—Melinda became one of his closest friends, and his biggest supporter.

Gabriel finished off his drink, motioning to the waitress for another. He looked over at Melinda, as she popped the olive in her mouth, and smiled as he signaled the waitress for Melinda, as well.

"So anyway…"

Melinda smiled.

"Anyway, I don't want you to freak out because my guy … is Sam's big brother."

Gabriel's mouth dropped open, his dark eyes narrowing.

"You're shitting me, right?"

Melinda pursed her lips, unable to fight the smile. She shook her head, and Gabriel leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Having Jess with that enormous monstrosity is bad enough, but to have you with a brother?"  
"Gabe, you don't even know the guy."  
"He's related to Sam. I know enough."

Melinda smiled up at the waitress as she set their drinks down. Gabe sat fuming in his chair, until Melinda sighed.

"Stop pouting, you big baby."  
"I'm not pouting."

Sure, and he wasn't whining, either. Melinda shook her head as she took a sip from her martini before reaching over and stealing the cherry from the top of Gabriel's mountain of whipped cream. He never could stay mad around her for very long though, and he let out a sigh.

"What's his name?"  
"Dean."  
"Jesus, he sounds like a douche."  
"Okay, you have no room to talk about anyone's significant other's name. You were the one who dated a guy named Lucifer."  
"Hey, that was a nickname, and we didn't date."  
"Okay, you were fuck buddies with a guy named Lucifer."  
"What a mouth she has on her."

Melinda laughed, leaning back, feeling the relaxing effects of the gin. Gabriel took a long drink, then sighed.

"Tell me about him."  
"No."  
"You know you want to."

Melinda smiled. She couldn't stay mad at him, either.

"Okay. First of all, he's not as huge as Sam."  
"Good thing or bad thing?"

Melinda shrugged her shoulders.

"Hasn't been a bad thing yet."

Gabriel nodded, silently telling her to go on.

"He's just over six feet tall, maybe 6' 2". Got these incredible green eyes, kind of sandy blonde-ish brown hair. Freckles across his nose. Built like a Greek statue."  
"And …?"

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, and Melinda sighed, smiling. Gabriel laughed.

"That good, huh?"

She nodded, and he laughed again.

"He's gorgeous, but … He's kind, too. He's got issues, of course. Nowhere near the level of my baggage, though."

Gabriel reached across the table and took her hand. He knew about her life, the horrific childhood she'd had. Melinda looked down at their hands as she spoke.

"I told him. A … About Mama and Daddy, my brothers. I was having a nightmare and he ran in to rescue me."  
"Before or after the fire?"

She looked up.

"Before. How did you—"  
"Seriously?"

Of course he knew. He knew everything. Money can get you whatever you want, and Gabriel had plenty of it to go around.

"Jess called me the day after. I was in Japan, and I tried to get the plane to turn around, to come here. Jess talked me out of it, though. She said there wasn't anything I could do, I'd just be sitting around."

He shook his head, looking to their hands.

"I was worthless at the meetings we had. I was so worried about you. Every time my phone vibrated, I'd get this … I don't know, this pit in my stomach. You remember Jenny Gordon?"

Melinda smiled.

"Yeah, I met her once when I came to see you. Her … What was it, her uncle? Had a thing with my mom before she got with my dad?"

Gabriel smiled.

"Yep. Well, the woman's brilliant. Made her my secretary, but she pretty much runs the shit."

Melinda laughed.

"Jenny called Chuck, sent the jet back for him, and he stayed with me for that week. Actually flew to Japan to … shit, to take care of me."

Melinda smiled.

"He sounds like a keeper, Gabe."

Gabriel smiled, nodding as he looked down at the table.

"Hey, I don't know if Jess ever told you, but I called a couple of specialists to check out your case."

Melinda smiled went soft as she squeezed his hand.

"She didn't, but I had my suspicions."

Gabriel smiled, leaning over to cup her face in his hand.

"I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, pretty girl."

Melinda smiled through the sudden tears in her eyes.

"Quit it. You'll ruin my makeup."

Gabriel winked at her, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

"You want to get the hell out of here?"  
"Please."

Gabriel signaled for the check, and soon, they were outside. Melinda was huddled in Gabriel's jacket, her cheeks and nose red from the alcohol and the cool night air. Gabriel had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"So…"

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

"Where to?"

Melinda gave him a smile.

"Want to see where I work?"  
"You work somewhere that's not a part of my company?"

She laughed. For ages, ever since he started the damn thing, Gabriel had told Melinda that she had a job waiting. Anytime she wanted to cash in on it, all she had to do was let him know. Melinda looped her arm through his as they began to walk down the street.

"It's convenient."  
"Your job at the Arch will be convenient."

Melinda laid her head on his shoulder, and Gabriel brushed a kiss to her forehead. They walked a little ways, stopping at the end of the street, where the neon lights were glowing, while the crowd was thinning out. Gabriel looked at his watch.

"Ten o'clock on a school night, and this bar's going strong."  
"Yeah, about this bar…"

Melinda had learned a long time ago that some things were just easier said in a rush. She turned to face Gabriel, giving him a dazzling smile.

"This bar is where I work. It's Dean's. Well, not technically, but he runs it, and he gave me a job. Oh yeah, and we kind of, sort of live together, too."

She turned on her heel and walked towards the bar. Gabriel stood in the same place, taken aback, and he shook his head.

"Hey!"

He took off running, and he caught up with her at the door of the bar. He leaned in, where he could whisper in her ear.

"You're a sneaky little bitch, aren't you?"

She threw her head back with a laugh as she opened the door, stopping in her tracks when Dean turned his head, face breaking out in a smile as he saw her. The smile fell from his face as Gabriel lifted the coat from her shoulders. Dean looked her over, his eyes meeting hers again. His pupils had nearly burned out the green, leaving only a thin, emerald ring. Melinda swallowed, and Gabriel came to stand behind her again.

"Sweet Jesus. _That's_ Dean?"

Melinda nodded, unable to take her eyes from him. Gabriel gave a low whistle.

"Very impressive. Nice going, Mel."

She nodded again, and Gabriel smiled.

"He looks like he could just toss you up on that bar and ravish you."  
"Gabriel!"  
"Give a whole new meaning to the term 'rode hard and put up wet.' Although I doubt that cowboy would do that."  
"Gabriel, for the love of God!"

Gabriel laughed, laying a hand to the small of her back and pushing her towards the bar. Melinda watched Dean's eyes drift down, narrow, then size Gabriel up before tossing his rag on the bar and walking towards them. She let out a laugh, causing both of them to look at her. Her cheeks warmed and she shook her head.

"It's nothing. Hey, Dean, I wanted to—"

Her sentence trailed off when he walked up to her, laying one hand on the small of her back, one hand behind her head, bringing her lips to his in a heated kiss. Gabriel slid his hands in his pockets, going up on his toes as he grinned. Dean ended the kiss with a soft kiss to her cheek, then pulled back, running his thumb over the spot he'd just kissed.

"Hi."

Melinda blinked big blue eyes at him, and after a moment, she could speak again.

"H—Hi."

Gabriel smiled beside her, clearing his throat loudly. Melinda shook her head, still in Dean's arms.

"Oh, Dean. This is … This is Gabriel. He's a dear friend of mine."  
"Yes. Ex-boyfriend, actually. Nice to meet you."

He held out a hand, and Dean let one of his hands fall from Melinda to grip the smaller man's.

"Dean Winchester."  
"Gabriel Shurley."

They dropped hands, and Melinda raised an eyebrow at Gabriel. He smiled, giving her a wink. He almost never gave out his actual name. Dean turned back to Melinda, effectively turning his back on Gabriel and blocking him out of their conversation. Gabriel, thankfully, stifled his laughter.

"Mel, I'm going to close up pretty soon. But you know, you two can stay as long as you like."

She nodded, and Dean leaned in to kiss her once more. He turned, giving Gabriel a nod, and went back behind the bar. Once Dean was gone, Gabriel laughed for a long time, while Melinda shoved him into a booth.

"Shut up. Just shut up."  
"Melly, that was … I love it. Oh, I just love it so much."

She blew out her breath, and Gabriel continued to laugh.

"Normally, I'm a little more subtle in staking my claim, but that one … Damn, he could have just mounted you right there."  
"Gabe! God."

He wiped the tears from his eyes, and Melinda crossed her arms.

"By the way, Mr. Shurley? Where the hell did that come from?"

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders, mumbling under his breath.

"What was that?"

He sighed, locking eyes with her.

"It's Chuck's last name, all right? First thing I thought of."

Melinda rolled her eyes.

"I just don't understand why you've got to give fake names."  
"It's easier that way. Plus, it's fun."  
"You pick the weirdest things, though. What was that one ... Oh, you remember. When we were in L.A. and you were going to the airport. Padaleski or something?"

Gabriel laughed.

"Close enough."  
"And I still can't believe you got away with Scherbatsky for so long."

Gabriel laughed.

"Didn't I tell you _How I Met Your Mother_ would be a big hit? You find a show you kind of like, you steal a character's name to pass off as your own, and suddenly the whole world's on the bandwagon and there's nowhere to hide."

Melinda laughed, and the last person walked out of the bar. Dean walked over and locked the door, rolling his shoulders as he walked towards the bar. Melinda smiled.

"Hey, cowboy."

Dean stopped, looking over to her. She gave Gabriel a wink before turning back to Dean.

"Come sit with me for a little while."

Dean smiled, walking over and sliding in the booth beside her, putting an arm around her as he kissed her cheek. Gabriel grinned, leaning over the table.

"Tell you what. It's been a long time, and I feel the need. So … How's about we have some fun?"

And that was how, two hours and two bottle of Jack Daniels later, three very drunk people were giggling in a booth under the stern eyes of Jessica and Sam. Jess sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"This is ridiculous. It is after midnight. I've got class in the morning. You've got class in the morning!"

Melinda shook her head, leaning more into Dean.

"I don't think so. I can miss a couple more."

Her words were slurred, nearly as bad as Dean's, and Jess sighed again.

"I'm surprised at you."

Gabriel widened his eyes, blinking hard once he did.

"Me? What'd I do?"  
"This was your idea, wasn't it?"

Gabriel had a shocked look on his face, but both Dean and Melinda were nodding. Jess tried not to smile, but it didn't work. She sighed, looking over at Sam.

"Let's get these two upstairs, and pour this one into the car."  
"I can walk, Jessie."  
"Yeah, okay. Show me."

Gabriel slid out of the booth, and down to the floor. Jess nodded, and Melinda burst into a fit of giggles. Sam helped Gabriel to his feet, and Gabe threw an arm around Jess.

"On second thought, how often does a pretty girl escort me out?"  
"Hardly ever?"  
"Hardly ever! Lead the way, my beautiful blonde buttercup."

Jess nodded, looking back to Sam. Sam smiled.

"Apparently, he alliterates when he's plastered."  
"I am not plastered, Sammy boy! I am … pleasantly …"  
"Plastered?"  
"Yes. Thank you, Jess. Pleasantly plastered."

She just shook her head as they walked out the door. Sam turned back to the booth, where Melinda was starting to doze on Dean's shoulder. Dean had a smile on his face, and he looked up at Sam.

"It's been a long time since we did this, huh?"

Sam smiled.

"Yep. What were you, twenty-one last time?"  
"Nah, it happened after then. Didn't it?"

Sam helped him stand up, holding him steady as the room spun, until Dean got his bearings. He gave him a nod, and Sam loosened his grip on Dean's arm.

"You think you can walk?"

Dean flipped him off, and Sam just laughed.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Dean stumbled over to the stairs, looking up and giving a muttered "_fuck_" under his breath. Sam scooped Melinda into his arms, and she curled into him, wrapping an arm around his neck. They slowly made it up the stairs, and Sam slid Melinda's shoes off after he laid her on Dean's bed. Dean plopped onto the edge of the mattress, untying his boots and tossing them against the wall. Sam smiled at him.

"Okay. You good?"

Dean nodded, giving him a smile.

"I'll be passing out shortly, so…"  
"All right. Good boy."

Dean lay back on the bed.

"Not a damn dog."

His words were quiet and muttered under his breath. Sam smiled as he walked over, shutting off the light as Dean's breath began to even out. He turned the rest of the lights in the apartment off, checking and re-checking that all the doors were locked before going down to the car.

* * *

"Shit."

Melinda took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh as she cuddled the pillow closer.

"Shit."

She turned her face closer to the pillow, breathing in deep again.

"_Shit._"

She propped herself up on her elbow, opening one eye to look at the edge of the bed. Dean was sitting there, swaying back and forth. When he cursed again, Melinda spoke.

"Shit."  
"What the hell are you doing?"

He jumped, turning back to look at her, then sighing.

"You scared the shit out of me."  
"Guess that's your word for the night."

Dean sighed, turning back around. Melinda sighed, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face.

"Dean, what are you doing?"  
"I can't get this shirt off. These fucking buttons keep—"

He yawned, and Melinda moved to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. She gave a little groan at the light, then looked over at Dean. She let out a quiet laugh.

"Dean."

He turned to look at her, and she smiled.

"That's your AC/DC t-shirt. It doesn't have buttons."

He looked down, smoothing his hand over his chest.

"Huh. I'll be damned. I could have sworn…"  
"You're drunk."  
"So are you."

Melinda smiled, going to lie back down. Dean wrestled the shirt over his head, letting out a sigh.

"Much better. I'm hot as hell in here."  
"Then take your clothes off. But be quiet, because I'm trying to sleep."  
"Careful. Last person who told me that got laid."  
"I was the last person to tell you that, dumbass."

Dean laughed, glancing behind him.

"Mel."  
"Damn it, what?"  
"You should take off that dress. It'll wrinkle."

Melinda smiled, letting out a groan.

"You're right. I hate it when you're right."

She sat on the edge of the bed, working the dress up over her head. She laid it neatly across the chair beside the bed, then slid her bra off, letting out a groan of relief. She reached behind her and grabbed the shirt Dean had just discarded, sliding it on and sighing. It was warm and soft. Dean kicked his jeans off, sliding his socks off, and finally laid back in just his boxers, letting out a breath. Melinda reached up and turned off the light, burrowing under the covers and cuddling the pillow again.

"Hey, Mel."  
"Mm-hmm?"  
"Who was that guy?"  
"Who, Gabe?"

Dean nodded, not realizing she wouldn't be able to see him in the dark. She yawned.

"He's an old friend. We dated for a little while when I first started college. Dean, we told you all this before we started on the second bottle."

Dean nodded again, lacing his fingers together and letting them rest on his abdomen.

"You love him?"

Her eyes flew open. She mulled over his words, wondering how exactly she should process them. Did she love him back then? Certainly not. Well, not in a romantic way. She loved him as a friend, and when he came out to her, that love deepened. Now he was like family to her, and she loved him even more.

"He's like family to me. I do love him, but not in a romantic way."

_Not like I love you._ She wanted to say it so badly, but she bit her tongue instead, until she tasted blood in her mouth. Dean nodded again, rolling over to face her. She had her back to him though, because she was curled up on her side.

"Do I need to worry about him?"

Melinda rolled onto her back, looking up at him. He'd propped himself up on one arm, and used his other to brush the hair back from her face. Melinda blinked up at him.

"Worry how?"

Dean kept touching her, and her eyes drifted shut. He spoke softly.

"I think you know."  
"Dean."

Her eyes opened, locking on his again. She swallowed, shaking her head.

"You can't."  
"Mel."  
"No."

Her voice was quiet, pain-filled.

"Melinda."  
"You don't need to worry about him."

She rolled over onto her side again, pulling the covers around her.

"You don't need to worry about anyone."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Wasn't it supposed to be easier than this? Wasn't it supposed to be all rainbows and sunshine and moonlit walks along the beach? Why did it hurt like this? She let out a ragged breath, and tears welled up in her eyes as Dean's arm came around her. He was spooned up behind her, the warmth of his body at her back. One of his arms was wrapped around her, the other gently brushing through her hair.

"Shh. Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here."

She felt his lips against her cheek, and she leaned her head back. His lips met hers two times, and he snuggled in closer, pulling her closer to him. She let out a deep breath, lacing her fingers with his. Her mind was racing, and her heart was churning, but lying there, in Dean's arms, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

_-TWELVE-_

Sam smiled as Dean scraped his knuckles—again—and cursed—again—as he leaned back from under the Impala's hood.

"Hey, Dean?"  
"Shut up."

Sam laughed under his breath, shaking his head and taking another sip of his beer.

"You got something on your mind there, big brother?"  
"Damn it, Sam, don't you know what 'shut up' means?"

Sam held his hands up, and Dean tossed his hand out.

"Give me a damn beer."

Sam did, and Dean popped the top with his silver ring he always wore, then drank down half the bottle. He turned away from Sam, one hand gripping the Impala, the other clutching the beer. Sam ran his tongue along his lips, standing up. His spine popped as he did, and he let out a quiet groan. He walked to the car, standing beside Dean, but turning around and leaning against the car. He looked out of the little garage, stared out over the parking lot of the bar, hearing Dean sigh.

"Dean?"

He turned his head, giving his little brother a "you don't really want to mess with me" look. Sam smiled. He'd never been able to leave Dean alone when he gave him that look. It was the little brother in him, the innate need to irritate the piss out of his big brother.

"You know we can talk, right?"  
"If I wanted to talk, don't you think I'd be talking?"

Dean spoke slowly, like he was carefully choosing his words. Also, kind of like he was trying his hardest not to reach out and strangle Sam. Sam smiled again, hiding it behind a sip of his beer.

"You're just so moody today. Thought you might have started your period."

Sam ducked just in time, missing the punch Dean threw. He laughed as he moved away, and Dean turned around, letting out a long breath.

"You're a son of a bitch, Sam."  
"Oh, whatever. Seriously, dude. What the hell's wrong with you?"

Dean sighed, finishing his beer and running his hand over his face.

"I don't know."  
"Bullshit."

Dean looked down at the empty beer bottle in his hand, and honestly… He didn't even know what happened. But a second later, he was breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling with each breath, staring at the wall where tiny shards of glass still clung, before falling to join the pile of shattered glass on the ground. Dean looked back, where Sam was staring at the pile of glass, eyebrows raised, lips pursed as he slowly nodded his head.

"Feel better?"

Dean glanced from his brother to the pile of glass, then back to Sam.

"Strangely, yes."

Sam nodded again, setting his beer down as he walked out of the room. Dean, just purely out of spite, picked up the beer and finished it, setting it back on the bench as Sam walked back in the room with a broom and dustpan. He handed them to his brother, and Dean walked over to the shattered beer bottle, sweeping it up. Sam sat back on the bench, bringing his bottle to his lips, frowning when he noticed the bottle was empty.

"You bastard."

Dean laughed, dumping the dustpan into the trash. He walked back over to Sam, accepting the beer his brother handed him. He looked down at it for a while, popping the top with his ring, causing the bottle cap to hit Sam's arm. Sam laughed, shaking his head as he took a sip of his own beer. Dean sat beside Sam, on top of the little green cooler they kept stashed in the back of the Impala, letting out a sigh. After a length of silence, Sam sighed.

"You know… I know you hate to do it, but talking may turn out a little less destructive. But it's up to you. Keep that rage in. Always works out for you."

Dean reached over and slapped the back of Sam's head, mussing his shaggy hair.

"Easy, man!"  
"You are, and have always been, a pain in my ass, Sammy."  
"It's _Sam._"

Dean smiled behind his beer, then let out a sigh.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Sammy."  
"What do you mean?"

Dean smiled as he looked down.

"Mel, Sam. I'm talking about Mel."

Sam nodded.

"I figured. You're in love with her, aren't you?"  
"Whoa!"

Sam looked up, to see Dean shaking his head, moving his hands around.

"What the hell is the matter with you? I've known the girl for what, three months? I don't love her."

He took a sip of his beer.

"Well, I mean… I do love her. But not in a romantic way, you know? It's more of a … a friend … We live together. She works with me. Hell, she works _for_ me. But I don't love her. I mean … I—I do … Shit."

Sam moved as Dean walked over, sitting down on the bench and handing Sam his beer before putting his head in his hands. Sam fought back his smile, reaching to pat Dean on the back.

"I know, man."

Sam drained his beer.

"I know."

* * *

That night at the bar, Dean stood back in the corner, just watching. Melinda was working the bar, and _man, _was she doing a good job. There were four guys on bar stools, talking to her, trying to make her smile or even better, laugh, soaking in her every word. She had a beautiful smile on her face, and these guys were putty in her hands. Dean knew for a fact that she knew that, and that made her pour it on even more. He tried to smile, tried to keep himself from walking over and personally showing each guy the close-up view of the gravel in the parking lot, and finally grabbed the first bottle of whiskey he came to, walking to the back and pouring himself a shot. He grit his teeth when he saw Melinda lean over the bar to whisper something in one of the guy's ear, tossing back another shot. He noticed Melinda glancing back at him, and one time, he gave her a smile that made a chill run down her spine.

When the last guy was going to walk out the door, he begged Melinda to go home with him. When she smiled and refused, he reached out to cop a feel, and Melinda had just smiled, moved to his ear and told him that if he touched her, she'd break every bone in his hand, then sic the guy in corner on him. He glanced behind her to Dean, who was tossing back another shot, the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue half-empty in front of him. The guy swallowed, and Melinda smiled, pushing open the door, locking it behind him as he left. She leaned against it and let out a laugh.

"It's a good night."

Dean looked up, snorting before he tossed back another shot. Melinda bit her tongue, walking back behind the bar and wiping it down. She cleaned pretty much the entire bar, and when she was done, she looked back to the corner of the bar, where Dean was reaching up for another bottle.

"Whoa, now."

She walked over to him, laying a hand on his back and helping him sit back down.

"I don't know what's got you lighting this fuse tonight, but I think you've had enough."  
"Don't tell me when I've had enough. I'm a big boy, Mel. Can take care of myself."

She blinked once, a smile crossing her face.

"Okay. Well, when the alcohol poisoning kicks in, don't come crying to me."  
"Yeah, 'cause you'll probably be busy with one of your little toys, huh?"

She turned back to him, setting her rag on the counter.

"What are you talking about?"  
"Don't play dumb with me, kid."

She looked him over, shaking her head.

"You're drunk."  
"Yep. 'Cause of you."  
"Me?"

She set a hand on her hip.

"Dean, what the hell is up with you?"  
"You, Melinda."

He said her name slowly, and she looked over, towards the juke box. He watched her, could hear the little voice in the back of his head that said to shut the hell up, walk away before he did something he couldn't take back. And, the way he usually did, the way he was best at, Dean ignored that little voice.

"Guys walk up in here and you practically throw yourself at them. Hanging all over them, getting them whatever they want."  
"I don't throw myself at them. If I flirt, I get a better tip. And I'm a waitress, Dean. It's my damn job to get them what they want."

Dean snorted again, and Melinda felt her face grow hot.

"I can see what you're doing. Why don't you just stop, before we both do something we'll regret later?"

She took her apron off, folding it up and laying it under the register, the way she always did. Swallowing the last of his last shot from this bottle, Dean spoke.

"Speaking of 'later.' You gonna call that last guy? I know he gave you his number. Saw him pawing at your ass."

Melinda stopped, standing up straight. She turned back to him, a smile on her face.

"You want to fight? Then come on. Let's fight. Yes, that last guy gave me his number, even asked me to go home with him, and when I told him no, he made a move to grab my ass. I seem to remember the last guy that tried to do that was picking gravel out of his teeth, thanks to you, so I tried to save that douchebag from the same fate."

She walked closer to Dean, snatching the shot glass out of his hand.

"You've had enough."

He let her take the glass, let her wash it out, dry it, and set it on the counter with the rest of the glasses. And in the Winchester way of fucking things up in epic ways, he spoke.

"I just figured the way you were practically riding his dick all night, you might want to get a taste of the real thing."

Melinda faltered at that, turning around and facing him, a soft smile on her face.

"Why don't you stop beating around the bush and say what it is you want to say?"

The tears that were suddenly in her eyes sobered him up some, and he suddenly couldn't remember what he was doing, why he was baiting her the way he had been.

"Mel—"  
"No, Dean. Come on. You've been hinting at it all night. Say it, damn you."

He shook his head, and she smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Okay, then I will. Why don't I go and call the guy, since I'm such a whore?"  
"Mel, I didn't say—"  
"You didn't have to."

She walked to the other side of the bar, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Dean hung his head as he blew out his breath, getting to his feet and holding onto the bar.

"I'm –"  
"Don't you dare say that you're sorry, you asshole. You're drunk and I told you to stop. You didn't, and now …"

She shook her head, a tear falling down her cheek.

"I thought you were different. You treated me like you were, but … You're just like the rest of them, aren't you?"  
"Mel, please. Just listen—"  
"I think I've listened to you enough tonight. I, uh … I need to go."  
"Wait."

He was surprised when she did, and he walked closer to her.

"I'm so sorry."

She nodded, looking off to the side as a hard smile came on her face, her eyes filling with fresh tears as she looked back to him.

"Do you know how bad that hurts? To hear that from you?"  
"Mel, please."  
"You want to know the best part? We're not even together! I keep waiting for it, but… You're just another guy, aren't you? Although I have been sleeping with you for a good while now, so I can see why you'd think I was such a whore. Just giving it up to you like that."  
"Mel, please. Don't …"  
"Call me when you dry out, all right?"

She walked out of the bar, up to the apartment. Dean listened for a minute, hearing her sobs before he heard the apartment door open.

"No. Mel, don't go!"

He stumbled to the door of the bar, cursing as he pushed on it, hit it with his fists before he finally remembered to turn the lock. By then though, Mel was gone. He turned from the door and tripped, grabbing the back of a chair before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He drew his knees up, propping his elbows on them, pushing his hands through his hair.

* * *

Sam groaned as he woke up, shaking his head, because his face was in Jess' hair. She gently pushed at his arms, which were wrapped around her, holding her close to him.

"Is that the door?"

Jess yawned as she sat up, and Sam ran a hand over his face.

"It's two in the morning and someone's beating on our damn door. I'll kill."

Jess laughed, which turned into another yawn as she stood up, putting her bathrobe on. Sam turned to her.

"What are you doing?"  
"What does it look like? I'm going to answer the door."  
"Jess—"  
"I am not helpless, nor am I going to lie in bed while you go face whatever's out there. I'm going with you, once you put some pants on."

Sam glanced down at his boxers, and Jess winked at him. He shook his head and pulled a pair of sweats on, not bothering with a shirt. He kept Jess behind him as he walked to the door, looking out through the peep hole as his hand closed around the baseball bat Jess handed him. But Sam straightened up quickly, setting the bat aside.

"What the hell?"

He opened the door, and Jess pushed him aside.

"Mel? What are you doing here?"

Melinda's face fell as tears filled her eyes again, and she choked back a sob. Jess was out the door, taking Melinda in her arms as Sam watched the cab drive away. Jess brought Melinda inside, gently stroking her hair, leading her to the couch. Jess sat down and Melinda crawled into her lap, crying. Sam stood off to the side, watching the sisters, and Jess just held Melinda until the worst of the sobs had subsided.

"What happened, honey?"

Melinda took in a shuddering breath, and the story came out. Sam was seeing red by the time she finished up, looking to Jess with wide, heartbreakingly sad blue eyes.

"I thought he was different, you know? He treated me differently, but …"

She sobbed, and Sam walked out of the room, to the bedroom. Jess had her eyes on him when he came back, now wearing a hoodie with his sweats. She sighed as he walked to the door.

"Sam."  
"Jess, don't."

He opened the door, letting it shut behind him, and Melinda tightened her hold on Jess. Jess held her closer, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

"Well, you've certainly screwed things up good this time, haven't you?"

Dean lifted his head, letting his hands fall as the familiar voice sent a burning pain through his chest. He looked to the barstool, where the pretty, petite blonde sat, leaning back so her elbows were on the bar. She flashed him a smile, and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Jo."

She winked at him, and he straightened out his legs.

"Am I dead or dreaming?"

Jo laughed.

"Maybe a little of both? You're going to wish you were dead when your hangover kicks in. But you're not really dreaming."  
"So what, you're a figment of my imagination?"  
"Look at boozy, using such big words."

Dean snorted, but couldn't help the smile.

"Jo…"  
"I am here to try and snap some sense into that thick skull of yours."

Dean sighed, running his hands over his face. When he opened his eyes again, Jo was sitting on the floor beside him. He jumped.

"Don't—don't do that."  
"Hey, what's the point in being dead if I can't do freaky cool things like that?"

Dean swallowed, looking down at the ground, and Jo laid a hand on his arm.

"Let's get to it, shall we? Honey, you've got to stop."  
"Jo, I—"  
"No, I'm serious. My death was not your fault, Dean. You've got to stop blaming yourself."

He shook his head, while tears shimmered in his eyes. Jo kept talking, her voice gentle.

"You've got to stop punishing yourself. It's okay for you to be happy. Stop with the self-sabotage and let yourself love this girl the way I know you do."  
"Like I loved you?"

Jo sighed, looking across the bar. A soft smile crossed her face.

"I like this place. Kind of reminds me of—"  
"Don't say it, Jo. Please."

She closed her eyes, leaning over to rest her head on Dean's shoulder. He closed his eyes, lifting his head up, trying his best not to cry. His voice was rough and thick when he finally whispered.

"I miss you."

Jo opened her eyes, smiling a sad smile.

"I know you do."

Dean leaned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"But I'm gone, Dean. And I'm not coming back."  
"You're here now."  
"You said it yourself; I'm a figment of your imagination. I'm here, talking to you, because you can't let me go."  
"Jo—"  
"No, I get it."

She stood up, holding out her hands and helping Dean to his feet.

"It's easy to block it out, especially when she's around. But Dean… You haven't faced it yet."  
"Oh, you're kidding me right? Tell me that you're fucking kidding me."

Jo sighed.

"Dean—"  
"I saw the car, Jo. I—I _burned_ what was left of that fucking car. I had to … I had to identify your mother's body. I held you while they unplugged those damn machines, because you were brain dead. I was the one … I had to live through that hell, so don't you dare tell me that I haven't faced it."

She stood there as he paced the room.

"Baby, if you had faced it, I wouldn't be here right now."  
"Joanna! Stop it."  
"Then listen to me!"

She walked to him, taking his face in her hands.

"You are holding on to me with everything that you have, when what you really need to do is go and find that girl and apologize to her. You need to tell her about me, about us, about what happened."

He shook his head.

"I can't."  
"You have to. Honey, you know her deep, dark secrets, but you won't tell her your own."

Tears filled his eyes again.

"It hurts, Jo."  
"I know it does."

She wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his face in her neck.

"I know that it hurts, and it will continue to, until you let me go."  
"Won't that hurt more?"

Jo smiled, raking her fingers through his short hair.

"Maybe for a little while. But once you let go, you'll be able to heal."  
"Maybe I don't want to."

She pulled back, looking into his eyes.

"You mean maybe you don't deserve to."

She spoke quietly, and Dean lowered his eyes. Jo shook her head.

"You're breaking my heart, baby."  
"Joey."

She let him envelope her again, and she sighed. A smile crossed her face when she saw the jukebox in the corner, and she blinked. Dean stopped, taking in a harsh breath as the beginning notes of _Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore_ filled the bar. He sucked in a choking breath, and Jo's small hand gently rubbed circles on his back. He shook his head.

"I—I can't. Stop. Stop it now. Make it stop, Jo. I can't."

Jo shushed him, pulling him closer, gently moving against him.

"Dance with me."  
"Jo, please."  
"Dance with me, Dean."

He let out a sob as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tightly he was sure she couldn't breathe. Then again, she didn't need to. Dean shook his head, putting his face back in her neck, shaking his head, because she smelled the way she always did. Tears slid down his face, and Jo finally pushed back where she could look at him, keeping her hands on his arms. Dean shook his head.

"Please don't go."

She gave him a smile, reaching up and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"You know I have to. I'm having a good time up in heaven. I had to leave it to come and kick your ass some."

Dean tried to smile.

"Are you an angel?"  
"What do you think?"

Dean nodded his head.

"I think you're an angel."

Jo smiled. She lifted a hand to gently cup his cheek, and he leaned into the touch.

"Fix this, Dean. Don't let this girl go. You … You're going to need her soon."  
"What?"

Jo looked down, and Dean shook his head.

"Jo, what … What are you talking about? What does that mean?"  
"Fix it, Dean. Get her back."  
"Wait, I don't understand. Jo."

He blinked, and she was gone. He glanced around, letting out a sigh and running his hands through his hair. The music had stopped the second Jo left. Dean looked to the door, letting out a sigh when he saw his massive little brother at the door, wearing something a step beyond his normal irritated bitchface. Dean walked to the door, letting out a sigh as he unlocked it.

"Sam, I—"

His sentence was cut off due to Sam's fist plowing into his face. Dean hit the floor, blinking his eyes wide and shaking his head. His ears were ringing. He looked up, to see Sam standing over him, massive shoulders heaving up and down with every breath he took. Dean could almost see the rage rolling off of him. He went to open his mouth, stopping when he was hit with a stabbing pain in his jaw.

"Goddamn it, Dean, don't you dare say a word."

Sam walked in and locked the door behind him, and Dean was surprised at the little piece of him that felt nervous. Sam could hurt him, was certainly in a mood to do so, and Dean was inclined to let him.

"Fuck. Stop looking at me like I'm going to beat the shit out of you. Even if you do deserve it, and more. Get up."

Dean took the hand Sam offered to him and sat on a stool. Sam went behind the bar and grabbed a towel, putting some ice in it and handing it to Dean.

"Put that on your face."  
"I think you broke my jaw."  
"Shut up; I did not. I should have, but I didn't."

Dean put the towel on his cheek, wincing at the lance of pain, the ache that settled. He looked up, meeting Sam's eyes. The rage had cooled just a little, but Sam still seemed furious. Dean sighed, wincing again.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?"

Dean looked down at the bar, and Sam began to pace back and forth as he spoke.

"Of all the things you could go and say, _that's _what you went with? Seriously, man. Do you have brain damage? Something happen during those "lost years" you forgot to tell me about? Because the brother I knew, _my_ Dean that I remember would _never _have even insinuated that about a girl. Yeah, he could be a jerk, a "love 'em and leave 'em" type of guy, but he never would have called a woman a whore, even if she was one. Even if she deserved it, and especially not to a woman he just _today_ told me he's fucking in love with!"

Dean hung his head, thoughts of Jo and the things she'd said swirling in his brain.

"Sam, I …"  
"What?"

Dean looked up, and the pain that was evident in his eyes made Sam stop.

"Dean, what?"

He shook his head, then let out a sigh. He dropped the towel to the bar, opening it up and watching the ice melt, speaking so softly Sam almost didn't hear him.

"She deserves someone better than me."

Sam let that hang in the air between them for a minute, then sighed.

"So now she has a chance to go find him, right?"

Dean nodded, and Sam bent over, putting his elbows on the bar and rubbing his fingers over his eyes.

"You are one stupid son of a bitch, you know that, Dean?"

Dean looked up, and Sam stood up, letting his arms fall to his sides.

"She loves you, you moron. And you have got to stop this self-loathing you've got going on. You are a good man. You are the greatest man I have ever known. I've looked up to you since I was four years old. All my life, all I've wanted to be was just like you."  
"Sam—"  
"No. You shut up and listen."

Dean sat up a little straighter on his barstool, and Sam laid his hands on the bar.

"You are the only thing I've ever been able to count on. Dad? Oh, please. The man flaked out on more things than I can remember. But you? You were always there. Even when you had better offers, I know, you chose me. You were the one at my kindergarten play. You were on the sidelines at my first soccer game. You taught me what to do to make sure that Sydney Carter kissed me on my first date."

Dean smiled at that, ignoring the ache in his cheek. Sam went on.

"And when I packed my stuff, when Dad and I were at each other's throats, I saw the look on your face when I dropped the bomb about the full ride to here. For half a second, I saw the look of awe, how proud you were of me, until Dad turned to try and blame you."

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes.

"And you were the one who drove me to the bus station. I know how bad you wanted me to stay, how much it broke your heart to let me go, but you drove me to the damn bus and made sure that I got on it, that I was okay. And you didn't talk to me for three fucking years because I asked you not to."

Tears were in his eyes again, and Dean wished he could punch himself in the face. Sam sighed.

"Dean, you were more of a father to me than Dad ever was. You never had a chance to be a kid, because you had to take care of me. You've carried so much weight all your life. You've carried Mom, and the guilt you feel over her death, even though I don't understand that. You've spent your entire life cleaning up Dad's messes the best you could, being his whipping boy when you didn't fucking deserve it. You carried me, literally and figuratively, for the past twenty-two years. Trust me when I say you deserve to be happy, even if you don't believe it."

Dean swiped his hand across his eyes, and Sam didn't acknowledge it.

"I know she makes you happy, man. Yeah, you screwed up tonight, but … She loves you, Dean. And I know that you love her. You just … You have to stop trying to sabotage yourself and let her in."

Dean looked up at him then, tear-filled green eyes boring into Sam.

"I don't know how to fix this, Sammy."

Sam smiled, reaching across the bar to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"We'll figure something out. Just … Promise me you won't beat yourself up quite so much anymore?"

Dean sighed, and a tear slid down the rapidly blooming bruise on his cheek.

"I'll try."


End file.
